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AUTHOR: 


ABOUT,  EDMOND 


TITLE: 


ROME  OF  TO-DAY 


A      L^a\  \^  II   ^ 


NEW  YORK 

DA  TE : 

1861 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 

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Oi-24-92 


AD:01-24-92 
UD:0i-24-92 

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^OME  OP  TO-DAi. 


« 


BY 


K  D  M  0  N  D    A  H  0  U  T 

*rc^  ETC. 


:ebmanii,* 


WITJi'  AN    ILLUSTRATION. 


-■»  ' 


NEW    YORK: 

J^f^S     0.    NOYES,    PUBLISHER 
'-'5    n  o  w  A  li  I)    K  rn  e  k  t.  ' 


1  8  C  1. 


/ 


i 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Co«p«M,  Iri  Um  year  I860,  by 
JAMES    O.    NOTES, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  t»ie  Uaited  SUtcs  foi 
Southern  Dintrict  of  New  Yurk. 


HI 


{ 


BTIBKOTYPED     BY 

SMITH    8t     McDOUGAL, 

82  &  84  Beekman-fit. 


GEO.  RUSSELL   A  « 
06  Duaiie-«tr«i< 


PREFACE. 


rpiIIS  is  neither  ;i  pamplilet  nor  even  a  political  work     If  the 
^     reader  e.xpecv:s  to  find  in  it  general  considerations  upon  tlie 
1  apal  Government,  he  will  be  disappointed. 

All  has  been  said  for  and  against  the  Temporal  Power  that  can 

be  said,  and  I  have  neither  sufficient  authority  nor  sufficient  lib- 

:^rty  to  resume  Uie  controversy.     I  have  played  too  active  a 

part,  both  as  accuser  and  accused,  not  to  have  my  impartiality 

suspected.     The  word  belongs  to  the  chief,  who  is  silent. 

It  may  also  be  suggested  that  the  time  for  discussion  is  passed 
like  the  time  for  wise  counsels  and  useful  reforms.  The  Roman 
question  has  been  sufficiently  elucidated  to  enable  the  least 
clairvoyant  to  distinguish  the  truth,  and  the  most  hesitating  to 
choose  their  part.  Some  are  decided  by  reasons  of  conscience 
otliera  by  reasons  of  interest  or  policy;  but  it  is  cert^  that  ac- 
tion has  succeeded  words. 

The  work  which  I  offer  to  the  public  is,  then,  notliing  more 
than  a  literary  study  on  the  Papal  States.  I  have  put  together 
in  a  volume  aU  the  observations  made  during  a  journey  of  six 
months.  "^ 

g^  The  materials  were  collected  two  years  ago,  but  it  seems  to 
Tne  that  they  have  matured  rather  than  grown  old.  Rome  has 
not  sensibly  changed  under  a  regime  that  boasts  of  being  im- 
mutable. Bologna  and  some  other  cities  have  only  proclaimed 
a  revolution  which  was  long  since  accompUshed  in  the  minds 
of  tl  e  citizens. 

T.  ie  day  when  all  the  subjects  of  the  Holy  Father  shall  have 
the  .-  me  ideas,  Uie  same  customs,  and  the  same  rights  as  the 
citizii^s  of  Bologna  in  1860,  my  book  wiU  be  but  an  archeologi- 
cal  c  .  losity ;  yet  I  will  not  complain  of  that. 


C 
f 


304592 


>4  J. 


CONTENTS. 


L 

n.. 
III.- 

IV.- 

V.- 

VI.- 

VIL- 

nii- 

IX.- 

X.- 

XI.- 

xn.- 

XIII- 

XR'.- 

XV.- 

XTL- 

xn:.- 


Preface 

—The  JorE.vEY 

-My  In-x 

—The  Plebeiax 

-Th^  rrtlETTO 

-The  Trastevere.  . 
-Gaiie  of  Kmtes.. 
-The  Lo  iter y 
-The  Middle  Cl-\.5^, 
-The  Artisis 
-The  RoAfAN-  V,-.-r- 
-The  army.  . . 
-The  GovERXifEyT. 


••••••*••■, 


-Deai 


v.  AT*. i_E .  .  . . 

-Ax  EiccRsiox  SorxH. 

•*.IE   VETTrRIXO , 


' 


PA6B 

iii 
5 

41 

52 

63 

T7< 


...     SO 

...      03 

'OS 

...    122 

.    US 

...  no 


16G 


•  •  •  •       JL  wO 


..  193 
..  200 
..  230 


. 


/'. 


ROME    OF    TO-DAY. 


••• 


THE    JOURNEY 


,  \  LL  road?,  they  ?ay,  lead 
-^^  to  Rome.  Still,  for 
us  citizeni?  of  Paris,  the 
shortest  road  is  that  which 
goei?  through  Marseilles. 

Why  13  the  name  §f  the 
Canebiere  ridicuIou3  in 
Paris  ?  "Whence  coL^es 
it  that  ^farseilles  and  the 
Man:oiIIai.^  have  inherited 
the  privilege  of  making  us 
laugh,  now  that  the  G-ar- 
onne  and  the  Gascons  no 
long^  ainTise  us?  The  -^  Sandis !"  and  the  ''Cadedis!'  that 
amused  the  contemporaries  of  Moli^^re.  have  faUen  into  the  do- 
main of  history,  like  the  milita.'y  pleasantries  inscribed  on  the 
walL'  of  Pompeii :  we  now  laugh  at  none  but  the  oaths  of  Mar- 
seLles.  In  gatherings  of  young  men,  a  story-teU^r  who  can  play 
the  y  ^  is  sure  of  carrying  his  audience  ;  certain  jokes, 

assisted  by  certain  eTima/^^-^^  and  spiced  with  a  certain  accent, 
act  with  an  un  -^  on  the  most   stubborn  spleen. 

Ever  .-  is  I.  in  the  conventional  Marseilles,  which 

the  wiL?  have  pven  us  :  its  parched  soil  filthy  streets,  pestilen- 
ti:.  or,  and  rough-mannereil  men.     The  stage  Marseillaise  is 

a  sort  of  ^ross-grained  ape.  who  is  a  drinker  of  ale.  a  refiner  of 
oil,  a  in  negroes,  and  '*  thou's"  everybody.     Wliy  has  this 

ndicuie  Men  upon  the  most  active  and  most  interesting  peopla 


I 


HOME   OF  TO-DAT 


<4 


1 


in  France  ?  Why  do  the  most  direct  descendants  of  ancient 
Greece  serve  as  a  butt  to  the  Athenians  of  Paris  ?  Wiiy  all 
these  minor  ofTences  of  high  treason  against  the  queen  of  the 
Mediterranean?     Wiiy?     Why?     Why? 

Because  Marseilles  has  furnished  the  journals  of  Paris  with  a 
dozen  spiteful  editors,  who  have  done  the  honors  of  their  coun- 
try a  trifle  too  wittily.  I  do  not  speak  of  M.  Amedt't'  Acliard, 
nor  of  M.  Mery,  nor  of  ^I.  Louis  Reybaud,  nor  of  M.  Leon  Goz- 
lan,  nor  of  those  who  were  rich  enough  in  their  own  resources 
to  leave  Marseilles  in  peace.  But  after  the  emigration  of  the 
princes  came  the  emigration  of  the  people.  Whenever  a  little 
Provencal,  with  fidgetty  ambition  and  without  an  idea,  enters  on 
his  career  in  the  office  of  some  little  journal,  his  first  article,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  is  on  the  Canebiere.  The  first  of  tliem  joked, 
and  those  that  followed  went  further;  comedy  ^z;^\''ii  place  to  buf- 
foonery, buffoonery  to  broad  farce ;  and  Marseilles  has  received 
from  the  hands  of  it3  own  cliildren  some  five  or  six  coats  of 
ridi.-jule  which  will  not  be  wiped  out  in  a  day.  She  comforts 
herself  by  saying,  "  It  is  my  own  fault.  I  should  not  be  ridicu- 
lous if  I  had  not  given  birth  to  all  those  men  of  talent." 

For  my  own  part,  I  humbly  confess,  ^Lirsoilles  did  not  make 
me  laugh.  It  is  a  sight  to  give  one  food  for  thought,  llowever 
little  you  may  be  interested  in  the  future  of  France,  you  would 
observe  with  passionate  curiosity  that  living  and  growing  city, 
growing  almost  visibly,  like  a  tropical  plant;  you  hold  your 
breath  to  watch  the  course  of  that  adventurous  people,  galloping 
madly,  at  the  risk  of  broken  necks,  in  all  the  ways  of  progress. 

I  had  left  Paris  in  the  middle  of  March,  a  full  month  before 
the  end  of  winter.  But  winter  in  Paris  is  so  agreeable  that  a 
man  of  occupation  can  not  tear  himself  away  from  it  too  soon. 
I  was  going  far  away,  and  for  a  long  time  burdened  with  a  thou- 
sand questions  to  be  settled,  happy  in  having  an  object,  and 
quieting  all  my  regrets  by  the  hope  of  bringing  back  a  book. 

The  journey  from  Paris  to  Marseilles  seemed  to  me  very  long, 
for  I  felt  that  in  a  little  time  we  should  be  able  to  do  it  more 
quickly.  No  doubt  it  is  pleasant  to  cross  France  in  twenty 
hours  in  an  excellent  carriage,  but  steam  does  not  yet  keep  all 
its  promises.  When  you  travel  for  the  sake  of  travel,  that  is  to 
say,  for  enjoying  the  variety  of  tilings  at  every  step,  you  can  not 
go  too  slow ;  but  when  you  take  the  cars,  it  is  to  reach  your 


•I', 


THE  JOURNEY.  ^ 

journey's  end,  and  for  nothing  else  ;  therefore  you  can  not  go 
too  fast.  On  the  road  from  Paris  to  the  Mediterranean,  one  of 
the  most  perfect  in  France,  the  passenger  trains  still  make  too 
many  and  t/3o  long  stoppages.  It  carries  the  Indian  mad  through 
in  twelve  hours,  and  has  done  still  better  within  the  last  few 
days :  a  locomotive,  sent  from  Marseilles  with  government  des- 
patches, fell,  nine  hours  after,  like  a  bombshell,  in  the  depot  at 
Paris.  That  is  the  true  use  of  railroads.  For  mere  traveling  a 
cane  is  enouglu 

After  leaving  Lyons,  where  we  lost  an  hour,  the  climate  grew 
milder,  the  sun  became  powerful,  the  trees  by  tlie  road-side  were 
m  leaf.  You  would  have  said  that  spring  was  running  to  meet 
us.  They  had  given  us  foot- warmers  at  Paris— they  offered  us 
ices  at  Valence.  These  transitions  will  seem  yet  much  more 
marvelous  when  we  can  fall  asleep  at  the  Bastille  and  wake  up 
in  sight  of  the  Chateau  d'If. 

Between  the  city  of  Aries  and  the  marsh  of  Berre,  the  road 
skirts  a  vast  plain,  more  gloomy  tlian  tlie  dreariest  moorland. 
It  is  called  the  Crau.  Nature  has  taken  pains  to  sow  it  with 
stones  in  fabulous  quantities.  Man  has  tried  here  and  there  to 
sow  something  else,  but  the  crop  is  still  to  come.  As  the  eye 
sur\'eys  this  extent  of  desert  soil,  you  regret  the  times  when 
nothing  was  beyond  the  power  of  a  fairy's  wand.  I  trust  that 
practical  chemistry,  that  fairy  of  modern  times,  will  yet  be  able 
to  raise  wheat  there,  from  the  gardens  of  Aries  to  tlie  salt-pits  of 
Berre.  The  question  is  under  consideration;  I  even  know  a 
young  man  of  science  who  flatters  himself  on  solving  it. 

But  forgive  me  this  delay ;  tlie  railroads  make  some  that  are 
far  longer. 

Travelers  leaving  the  railway  station,  enter  Marseilles  by  wide 
roads,  flanked  with  fine  houses,  and  planted  with  old  trees.  It 
is  tlie  entrance  to  a  great  city.  The  road  stops  abruptly  at  tlie 
foot  of  the  Rue  Noailles  ;  you  take  a  hundred  steps  in  the  dark 
in  a  kind  of  stifling  passage.  But  suddenly  air,  light^  space, 
everything  abounds  at  once.  A  monumental  square  expands 
before  you ;  two  great  avenues  stretch  away  to  the  right  and 
left.  In  front,  a  street,  much  wider  but  infinitely  shorter  than 
the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  shows  you  the  old  harbor  crowded  with  ves- 
sels.    Hail  to  the  Rue  Canebiere ! 

The  Canebiere  is  a  door  opening  on  the  Mediterranean  and  the 


8 


-RO^lE  OF  TO-DAT.' 


whole  universe ;  for  the  watery  road  which  leads  from  it  goes 
round  tlie  world.  In  1856  the  Canebiere  witnes.^od  the  landinir 
of  four  hundred  thousand  travelers,  and  two  millions  of  tons  of 
goods,  two  thousand  million  kiloq-rammes.  Land  du  the  Cane- 
biere sells  at  the  rtite  of  a  thousand  francs  the  square  yard,  or 
ten  millions  an  acre.  The  Canebiere  is,  therefore,  one  of  the 
busiest,  most  useful,  and  most  respectable  streets  in  the  civilized 
world. 

The  harbor  which  finishes,  or  rather  continues  if^  gives  it  an 
original  appearance.  A  few  years  ago  the  pietures(^iije  costumes 
of  the  East  still  enameled  it;  but  that  hapj.y  time  is  no  more. 
The  East  no  longer  sends  its  costumes  to  the  world's  end.  It 
carefully  preser\'C3  its  few  remaining  turbans,  with  which  to 
exalt  itself  in  the  eyes  of  the  foreigner,  and  to  prove  to  him  that 
it  is,  beyond  doubt,  the  East  indeed. 

As  you  follow  the  line  of  the  Canebiere  down  toward  the 
old  harbor,  you  see  at  the  left  the  new  town,  neatly  laid  out  on 
level  ground ;  at  the  right,  old  Marseilles,  heaped  promiscuously 
on  its  hill.  The  town  of  the  future  is  situated  farthcT  off,  beyond 
the  old  Marseilles,  skirting  the  Joliette  harbors. 

The  new  town  is  neat  and  even  elegant.  It  smells  of  Paris  a 
league  off;  formerly  it  smelt  of  something  very  different.  The 
time  is  gone  by  in  which  the  citizens  used  to  throw  the  surplus 
of  their  houses  out  of  the  window.  Three  large  parallel  stn^ets 
traverse  the  young  Marseilles  in  its  whole  length.  The  Rue  do 
Rome  is  something  hke  our  Rue  de  Richelieu  :  the  likeness  roust 
be  striking,  for  Counsellor  de  Brosses  noticed  it  a  hundred  years 
ago.  The  Rue  St.  Ferrt'ol  is  a  pleasant  copy  of  the  Ri:e  Vrvi- 
enne,  though  the  Exchange  is  held  in  the  Rue  Paradis.  If  is  in 
the  open  air,  under  tlie  sky,  that  the  Marseillaise  meet  twic>e  a 
day,  to  transact  their  business.  It  is  true  they  have  a  small  shed, 
of  zinc  or  pasteboard,  to  shelter  them  in  case  of  rain,  but  they 
hardly  ever  use  it.  Their  custom  is  so  well  established,  that  in  the 
morning  between  eleven  and  half-past  one,  and  between  four  and 
five  in  the  afternoon,  drivers  take  a  circuitous  route  to  avoid  the 
Rue  Paradis.  When  the  new  Exchange,  which  is  finishinc: 
on  the  Canebiere,  is  thrown  open  to  the  merchants  and  specu- 
lators, they  T\nll  only  go  there  when  driven,  and  only  stay  there 
when  -locked  in. 

Marseilles  has  its   Champs  Elysees.     In   the   neighborhood 


TUE   JOURNEY.  -q 

/  «llJ'h  .l!°"-''''f<'  ^"™  yo"  way  see  whole  strceU  of  smalL 
/  Me  l-buJ,,  c.on.fortol.Ie  mansion.,  deeorated  even  with  a  de^ 
of  tasto.  r  could  mention  one  whieh  would  be  nodced  any 
whore-oven  at  Pari...  This  new  town,  altl,ough  wantin'neitW 
for  a,r  nor  for  li.ht,  has  allowed  itself  U.e  luxury  of  two"  eoS 
erable  promenade.^  One  of  them  is  a  path  eut  out  of  tSk 
.  above  he  sea  at  a  respectful  distance  from  the  ha  bo  ut 
called  the  Prado.     The  other  is  a  zoological  garden  ia4nUv 

statue,  fft%f"^^^r'  I"  ^'"''"""-'^  '^''  ^''=""'   t''«  '^-(^^  the 
statues  (for  Marseilles  has  two),  the  museum,  and  the  lycenmaro 

m  the  new  town ;  you  can  readily  believe  it. 

As  for  the  old  town,  I  should  like  to  give  you  an  idea  of  it, 
by  a  comparison  with  some  quarter  of  Paris;  but,  happily  for  us 
we  have  nothing  like  it.     That  hill,  impassable  fo  vehkles  in^I 
cessible  to  ladies,  revolting  t.  the  sigU  and  smell,  ^      d  Th 
,        s^mkmg  mud.  watered  by  drains  like  torrents,  resembles  notSig 
m  the  worid,  mdess  it  be  be  tlie  Ghetto  at  Rome,  which  a  wS 
of  the  eighteenth  centuiy  called  the  arch-fminess.     Busine^ 
wretchedness  and  vice  divide  this  delectable  place  among  them 
Considerable  districts  may  be  noticed  there,  devoted  to  the 
diversion  of  sailors;  and  by  a  toleration  which  I  can  not  qu7te 

ren  rtl";  'l  /'"f  ^  "%""•"  ■"  ''  "^  <•-  "-  trade  wS 
reflects  Ue  least  credit  on  France.  Never  did  such  noble  flae 
cover  such  foul  merchandise.  ^ 

A  man  must  be  a  very  determined  antiquarian  to  go  lookin-r 
for  pearls  in  this  dung-hill.  Xevertheless,  I  plunged  tntoVZl 
fine  mommg,  un.ler  the  guidance  of  a  ve,.;  learned  young  ma^ 
trate,  M  Camom  do  Vance.     We  sketched  together  som!  houses 

caned  M-ith  dog-too  h  ornament;  a  haU  of  justice,  which  is  not 

urLns?f'r  '"-."'fr .'-<>■  '^'^'^  '^  prison,  which  is  hke  all  the 
prisons  of  the  good  old  times.  The  city  hall  is  not  wanting  in 
grandeur;  and  m  the  Consegne  may  be  seen  half  a  dozen  tole- 

The  fi^h  r\''^'  ""^  "7"''°'  "•"  ^^"'-•^'  "^y  P"=-''  °f  i«3. 

Itmef  ,t  f.  "  T"""'  ''"''P'''"  "'  '■"^  '^ '"°"«'°'.  t°  l^-^ar  the 
« omen  talk;  the  eloquence  of  our  fish-women  is  veir  feeble 
compared  to  that  which  flourishes  there 

^ilW  call  La  Majeure,  or  La  Major.     ThL«  venerable  building 


10 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


was  erected  on  the  ruins  of  a  pa^an  temple,  and  it  lias  been  30 
much  and  so  thoroughly  cut  down,  that  between  ancient  and 
modern,  pagan  and  Christian,  there  is  not  enough  left  to  make  a 
village  church. 

But,  a  few  steps  further  on,  between  the  old  town,  which  is 
doomed  to  disappear,  and  the  town  of  the  future,  -which  is  grow- 
ing fast,  may  be  seen  rising  from  the  ground  the  foundations  of 
a  new  cathedral  of  some  promise. 

The  old  town  has  had  its  day ;  not  only  will  the  rookeries 
which  abound  there  be  razed,  but  even  the  hill  on  which  they 
stand.  The  future  of  La  Joliette  depends  upon  it,  and  two 
words  will  make  you  understand  it.  Would  Paris  push  toward 
the  Champs  Elysees  if  the  hill  of  St.  Genvi^ve  stood  upon  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde  ? 

At  present  the  birds  and  fishes  travel  from  Marseilles  to  the 
Joliette  with  greater  ease  than  men.  Still  the  future  town  is 
building  for  a  numerous  population.  I  saw  seven  enormous 
houses,  all  alike,  and  of  an  architecture  too  rich  for  my  tasto. 
The  merchants  of  Cartha<?e  never  stored  their  bales  in  such  murr- 
nificent  temples,  and  M.  Mirths  can  already  give  a  lesson  to  Dido. 

The  Society  of  the  Harbors  of  Marseilles,  founded  and  named 
by  that  great  financier,  was  formed  to  reclaim  several  acres  of 
land  that  front  on  the  new  harbors.  It  has  no  connection  with 
the  construction  of  the  harbors  and  the  works  of  maritime  en^-i- 
neering;  it  does  not  open  a  haven  for  vessels  buflfeted  by  the 
mistral;  those  are  none  of  its  affairs.  Its  relations  with  the 
docks  in  course  of  construction  at  the  Joliette,  are  the  relations 
of  neighborhood,  and  it  is  called  the  Society  of  the  Harbors 
because  it  is  estabhshed  by  the  side  of  them. 

This  does  not  mean  that  the  speculation  of  ^^.  Mirths  and  his 
shareholders  has  been  useless  to  the  people  of  ^r.ir.seilK's,  The 
city  had  lands  to  sell ;  lands  that  were  pestilential,  murphy,  rot- 
ten with  the  refuse  of  the  soap  works,  difficult  to  build  upon, 
and,  to  crown  their  disgrace,  beaten  by  every  wind  that  rages  in 
that  country.  These  trifling  defects  were  balanced  by  the  imme- 
diate proximity  of  a  harbor  which  has  a  future ;  nevertheless, 
none  of  the  purchasers  wlio  came  forward  offered  more  than 
twenty  francs  a  yard.  M.  Mires  gave  fifty,  and  the  Marseillaise 
shook  hands  with  him  on  the  bargain. 

The  transaction  is  a  profitable  one  for  the  city  even  now ;  and 


THE  JOUKNEY. 


11 


wiU  be  so  one  day  for  M.  Mir^s.  The  city  pockets  some  mil- 
hons,  which  are  no  inconvenience  to  it,  for  it  is  enterprising  and 
m  debt.  M.  Mires  will  get  his  money  back  when  his  lands  are 
built  upon,  and  especially  when  they  have^K  direct  communica- 
tion with  Marseilles.  The  old  town,  which  annoys  every  body, 
annoys  him  more  than  any  one  else.  Accordingly,  he  offers  to' 
uproot  the  hiil  on  the  most  equitable  terms. 

In  this  state  of  things  I  will  not  commit  the  imprudence  of 
describing  at  greater  length  a  city  which  will  perliaps  be  over- 
turned  to-morrow.     :Marseilles  has  this  in  common  with  Paris 
that  one  must  give  up  the  attempt  to  paint  it,  unless  prepared  U> 
begin  the  portrait  every  day  afresh.    I  will  wager  that  Bordeaux 
on  the  contrary,  is,  almost  to  a  single  paving-stone,  what  it  was 
m  the  montli  of  April  last  year.     And  I  promise  to  give  you  a 
picture  of  Rome  which  our  great  grandchildren  will  be  able  to 
verify,  word  for  word,  if  the  revolution  does  not  meddle  with  it 
Progress  is. bestirring  itself  in  the  outskirts  of  Marseilles  as 
well  as  in  its  streets ;  it  invades  with  the  same  step  the  town 
the  suburbs,  and   tlie  most  distant  environs.     This  district  was 
celebrated  formerly  for  being  parched,  and  now,  God  forgive  me, 
it  is  green !     The  Marseillaise  went  in  search  of  the  Durance' 
and  they  have  led  it  by  the  hand  even  to  their  doors.    The  water 
circulates  in  all  the  houses  in  the  town,  up  to  the  highest  story; 
It  waters  the  streets  in  this  fatherland  of  dust;  it  fertilizes  Uie 
gardens,  and  brings  grass  upon  the  meadows. 

Yet  you  need  not  fear  that  Provence  will  become  a  district  of 
the  country  of  Caux ;  the  sun  is  always  there.  It  throws  upon  the 
blue  waters  the  charming  outlines  of  Katonneau,  of  Pomegue,  or 
of  the  Chateau  d'lf ;  it  tinges  with  a  delicate  silver  the  be°autiful 
gray  hills  overhanging  Montredon ;  it  fosters  among  the  rocks 
the  rosemary  and  cactus,  and  tlie  gigantic  stalks  of  the  aloe ; 
and  distils  the  penetrating  perfume  of  the  arbutus  and  lentiscus! 
So  much  for  what  a  newly  arrived  traveler  sees  at  the  first 
glance  on  entering  Marseilles.  And  now,  if  you  please,  let  us 
chat  a  little  with  the  inhabitant^,  w^ho  like  notliing  better. 

Those  who  saw  Marseilles  in  1815  speak  of  il  as  ofa  fore- 
court of  the  great  desert.     The  sohtary  harbor  of  the  to^vn  was 
empty;  the  population  amounted  to  ninety  thousand  inhabitants 
who  were  dying  of  hunger.     Things  have  greatly  changed,  espe^ 
cially  in  the  last  few  years.     The  census  of  1841   counted  one 


12 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


hundred  and  forty-seven  thousand  Mar3eillaL<'c ;  that  of  185G 
gives  two  hundred  and  thirty-five  thousand,  an  increase  of  noarly 
ninety  tliousand  souls  in  fifteen  years.  The  number  of  births 
increased  one-eighth  in  1857,  so  that  we  must  add  one-oi«]rhtii  to 
the  number  of  the  population,  which  brings  it  to  two  hinnlrod 
and  sixty-five  thousand.  Add  the  floating  population,  the  for- 
eigners not  included  in  tlie  census,  Frenchmen  voluntarily*  omit- 
ted for  local  reasons,  and  you  will  sec  that  Marseilles  is  a  city 
of  two  hundred  and  ninety  thousand  souLs,  two  hundred  thou- 
sand more  than  in  1815. 

I  have  no  need  to  add  that  these  two  humlred  thousand  Mar- 
seillaise were  not  all  born  in  Marseilles.  The  rapid  growth  of  a 
city  is  not  to  be  explained  by  any  unusual  productiveness  in  mar- 
riages. Everywhere  where  money  is  to  be  made,  citizens  run 
together  and  settle,  and  the  population  increases  without  women 
being  concerned  in  it.  Marseilles  is  still  growing  daily  by  the 
interested  incursions  of  the  North  and  the  South.  It  contain<Ml 
in  the  month  of  December,  1857,  more  than  eighteen  thousand 
Sarthnian  subjects.  Italians,  Greeks,  and  Spaniards  are  the 
material  of  which  almost  all  the  Marseillaise  are  made. 

In  spite  of  the  diversity  of  their  origin,  they  have  a  common 
expression  of  face,  and,  so  to  speak,  a  family  likeness.  Not  that 
there  is,  strictly  speaking,  a  Marseillaise  type,  but  the  sun  of  the 
South,  the  life  in  the  open  air,  the  anxieties  of  business,  the 
number  of  excitements,  the  ceaseless  alternation  of  work  and 
pleasure,  have  marked  all  those  faces  with  a  stamp  which  is  well 
known. 

The  Marseillaise  are  quick  of  sight,  prompt  in  speech,  indefat- 
igable in  gesture.  Their  adventurous  temper  and  s;mguine  dis- 
position urge  them  to  great  undertakings  and  great  follies.  Few 
Frenchmen  are  more  nimble  at  making  or  losing  a  fortune.  In 
almost  every  country  in  the  world  tlie  father  amasses  milUons  to 


♦  There  are  certain  tuxos  which  increaae  with  the  population  oi'  the  town, 
which  is  therefore  interested  iti  inuier-ostimatitij^  its  popnhitii>n.  I  know  a  hnin- 
let  in  Lorraine  of  more  than  four  thonsjinJ  inh:\hltants,  which  has  ntver  con- 
sented to  own  to  more  than  three  thousand  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine. 
"When  the  increage  of  its  population  becomes  too  evident,  it  will  leap  at  once 
from  three  thousand  nine  hundred  and  ninety-uinc  to  four  thouRiind  nine  hun- 
dred and  ninety-nine,  like  those  wmucn  who  try  to  ri'iutiin  younif,  and  at  length 
pass  iii  a  single  day  from  twenty-nine  years  of  age  to  thirty-nine. 


THE  JOURNEY. 


13 


be  squandered  by  the  son;  at  Marseilles  you  can  see  men  of  all 
ages  combine  the  two  parts  of  the  father  and  tlie  son.  Keen 
after  gain,  lavish  of  their  time  and  trouble,  they  now  and  then 
stop,  like  the  squirrel  on  the  bough,  to  taste  the  fruit  of  their 
labor.  Their  life  is  divided  dilforently  from  ours :  we  work  in 
the  age  of  pleasure,  and  begin  to  take  our  holiday  when  we  can 
no  longer  do  anything  with  it;  the  Marseillaise  does  not  wait  for 
his  last  teeth  to  fall  out  before  he  bites  his  apple. 

His  mind  is  open,  like  the  horizon  which  surrounds  him  ;  ho 
has  traveled  or  will  travel ;  the  Mediterranean  is  a  suburb  of 
Marseilles,  which  he  will  visit  sooner  or  later.  He  thinks  that 
the  Senegal  is  not  very  far  off,  and  that  Paris  is  at  his  door.  If 
business  keeps  him  at  his  desk,  he  can  see  the  world  without 
going  out  of  doors ;  does  not  the  whole  universe  defile  through 
tlie  Canebiere?  He  has  seen  specimens  of  all  countries;  ho 
knows  a  little  of  everything  without  having  opened  a  book  ;  ho 
is  in  a  condition  to  reason  on  all  questions,  though  he  rarely 
takes  the  pains  to  exhaust  one  ;  the  quickness  of  his'conceptions, 
the  openness  of  his  mind,  his  readiness  to  skim  the  surface  of 
things,  make  him  agreeable  in  convei-sation,  for  which  he  always 
finds  leisure. 

Almost  all  ^farscillai.se  have  the  same  amount  of  natural  sense 
and  tlie  same  degree  of  information  ;  little  knowledge,  and  many 
ideas.     The  city  in  France  in  which  tiie  equahty  of  men  is  least 
like  a  delusion,  is  Marseilles.     There  are  no  more  castes  there 
than  on  yoxir  hand  ;  there  can  be  no  old  nobility  in  a  population 
that  is  all  new.     Tiie  chief  inhabitants  are  successful  merlin  the 
most  honorable  sense  of  the  word ;  the  rest  are  in  hopes  of  suc- 
ceeding by  their  exertions.    There  are,  therefore,  only  two  classes 
at  ^larseilles,  those  who  have  made  their  fortune,  and  those  who 
are  trying  to  make  it.     The  first  class  is  less  numerous  than  is 
generally  supposed,  and  I  have  explained  the  reason  for  this ;  it 
is  that  the  rage  for  enjoyment  is  stronger  than  the  desire 'of 
accumulation.     There  are  not  ten  fortunes  of  five  million  francs 
in  the  city.     The  simple  millionaires,  if  a  census  of  them  were 
tAken,  would  not  be  more  than  forty.     These  favorites  of  fortune 
do  not  become  inflated  by  their  financial  superiority,  and,  whether 
from  remembering  what  they  were,  or  from  meditating  some- 
times on  the  instability  of  the  best  secured  fortunes,  they  receive 
with  friendliness  those  who  have  not  yet  made  their  way.     The 


r 


/. 


14 


KOME   OF  TO-DAY. 


Marseillaise,  whether  rich  or  poor,  is  in  all  cases  familiar,  unaf- 
fected, and  good-natured.  I  know  few  towns  in  which  "  thou  " 
is  more  used,  or  where  less  value  is  attached  to  unnecessary  po- 
hteness;  men  must  have  been  of  this  fashion  in  the  commercial 
republics  of  Greece. 

This  bonhomie  prevails  not  only  in  their  langua^re ;  it  is  found 
in  their  manners,  and  even  in  their  business.  It  goes  so  far, 
sometimes,  that  merchants  of  the  old  stamp  would  be  astonished 
at  it.  In  the  days  when  flourished  the  Seigneur  Arnolphe,  tlie 
worthy  Orgon,  and  that  good  Monsieur  Dimanche,  a  merchant 
who  did  not  honor  liis  signature  was  a  lost  man ;  nothing  re- 
mained but  to  throw  himself  head  foremost  into  the  water. 
These  strict  principles  are  still  in  vigor  in  some  departments  of 
France.  If  a  commercial  crisis  should  interrupt,  for  six  months, 
the  prosperity  of  Rouen,  every  Norman,  strong  in  his  right, 
and  penetrated  with  his  old  ideas,  would  proceed  to  extremities 
against  his  neighbor  and  his  crony,  without  pity,  and  would  sleep 
without  remorse.  But  let  the  same  accident  occur  at  Mar- 
seilles :  everything  will  be  arranged  by  friendly  agreement,  and 
you  will  see  fifty  liquidations  allowed  for  one  bankruptcy  that  is 
declared.  Does  it  arise  from  good  will  or  from  foresight  ?  from 
compassion  for  the  difficulties  of  one's  neighbor,  or  consideration 
for  one's  self?  I  do  not  venture  to  pronounce  an  opinion.  In 
either  case  the  fact  remains  that  in  Marseilles  a  creditor  prefers 
to  take  ten  per  cent,  and  hold  his  tongue,  rather  tlian  to  be  se- 
vere with  his  debtor. 

Some  years  ago,  a  Marseillaise  who  had  made  a  fortune  abroad, 
after  various  vicissitudes,  bequeathed  his  property  to  his  native 
city,  and  stipulated  that  the  income  should  be  employed  in  freeing 
prisoners  for  debt.  Thereupon  was  seen  an  embarrassed  legatee, 
namely,  the  municipal  council  of  Marseilles.  In  vain  they  sought 
for  prisoners  for  debt;  none  such  were  made  in  the  district* 
The  lesracv  came  near  hems;  sent  back  to  the  other  world,  as 
useless,  injurious,  and  incompatible  with  established  custom. 
Matters  were  in  this  state,  when  a  sage  citizen  said  to  his  neigh- 
bor, *'  Have  me  put  into  prison  for  debt.  I  shall  be  liberated  by 
the  old  fellow's  legacy,  and  we  will  divide  the  money."  The 
invention  seemed  so  good  that  the  prison  eventually  found  a  few 
tenants.  It  would  never  have  had  any  but  for  the  legacy  of  the 
good  Marseillaise. 


\ 


THE   JOURNEY. 


15 


This  American  toleration,  this  indifference  on  the  score  of 
commercial  religion,  has  inconveniences  which  I  need  not  point 
out  It  is  not,  however,  without  some  advantages.  By  loosen- 
ing the  rein  to  bold  speculators,  and  encouraging  those  who  had 
taken  fright,  it  has  quickened  the  progress  of  the  city,  and  con- 
tributed to  the  prosperity  of  France.  I  know  all  that  can  be 
justly  said  against  the  spirit  of  adventure,  but  when  I  see  what 
an  impetus  the  Marseillaise  give»to  tlie  public  fortune,  with  what 
spirit  they  throw  tliemselves  into  an  affair,  with  what  readiness 
they  subscribe  for  an  enterprise  the  moment  that  it  looks  sound,  how 
bold  is  their  capital,  how  ready  for  investment,  and  inclined  to  in- 
crease by  circulation,  I  feel  a  kind  of  secret  longing  to  excuse  this 
romance  of  commerce  which  they  are  naturalizing  among  us. 

Need  I  add  that  the  magnitude  of  their  interests,  and  the 
boldness  of  their  enterprises,  make  them  large-hearted,  hospit- 
able, and  generous  to  prodigality.     Merchants  of  the  primitive 
school  (a  few  specimens  are  still  found  at  Rouen,  Lyons,  and  St. 
Etienne)  would  be  astonished  to  see  how  gold  slips  through  the 
fingers  of  a  Marseillaise  merchant.     The  twenty-franc  piece  is 
no  more  timid  at  Marseilles  than'at  Paris.     It  hides  itself  just  as 
little,  and  plays  the  same  pranks.     Luxury,  a  vice  that  is  excel- 
lent, wholesome,  and  honorable  among  all  men  when  sustained 
by  labor,  flaunts  in  the  Canebiere  as  insolently  as  on  our  boule- 
vards.    Marseilles  consumes  more  silks  than  Lyons,  and  more 
ribbons  than  St.  Etienne.     The  Reserve  sees  more  corks  fly  than 
the  Moulin- Rouge  or  the  PavWori  (T ArmenonviJle ;  and,  finally, 
incredible  to  relate,  all  the  boxes  at  the  great  theater  are  rented 
by  the  year. 

I  passed  a  week  of  eight  or  ten  days  at  Marseilles.  The 
inhabitants  did  the  honors  of  their  country  and  of  themselves 
with  charming tfordiaUty.  I  found  their  hearts  and  houses  open, 
and  became  convinced  that  they  are  no  more  miserly  in  their 
friendship  than  in  anything  else.  What  I  know  about  their  httle 
faults  they  told  me  themselves,  for  they  are  ready  at  confession. 
They  own  that  a  love  for  the  open  air,  and  a  certain  vagabond 
spirit,  take  them  too  often  out  of  the  house.  If  they  show  them- 
selves at  home  two  or  three  times  a  day,  they  scarcely  Hve  there. 
Business,  the  club,  gaming,  the  noise,  the  motion,  the  cigar— 
a  certain  freedom  which  they  would  not  allow  themselves  at 
home— these  are  the  bonds  that  unite  the  men  in  groups,  and 


16 


KOME   OF  TO-DAY. 


keep  them  at  a  distance  from  tlie  house.  This  out-door  LTe 
begins  with  puberty  and  is  prolonged  until  old  age.  Marriage  in- 
terrupts it  for  the  whole  length  of  a  honeymoon,  and  then  habit 
resumes  its  sway.  There  are  many  neglected  women.  For 
consolation  they  throw  tliemselves  into  tlie  arms  of  religion,  and 
go  to  the  churches.  They  might  easily  go  further,  for'^they  are 
pretty,  or  at  least  very  piquant.  But  they  have  no  life  except 
in  the  eyes;  and  so  much  the  happier  for  their  husbands. 

— You  can  well  conceive  that  such  outrageous  walkers  do  not 
lose  much  time  in  reading.     They  are  small  consumers  of  books, 
and  consider  that  it  is  quite  handsome  enough  in  them  to  turn 
over  the  leaves  of  a  newspaper.     If  the  booksellers  told  me  the 
truth,  not  ten  copies  of  Mohere  are  sold  in  a  year,  in  this  city  of 
two  hundred  and  ninety  thousand  souls,  and,  except  for  New 
Year's  gifts,  not  one.     The  booksellers  are  well  posted  in  this 
kind  of  statistics,  siuce  they  undertake  to  provide  for  the  mind. 
Nevertheless  some  serious  and  cultivated  men  are  known  to  be 
in  Marseilles ;  tliey  are  from  forty-five  to  sixty  years  of  age — a 
generation  that  is  passing  away.     There  are  also  two  amateurs 
of  painting,  one  of  them,  moreover,  a  learned  connoisseur.     He 
owns  five  pictures,  if  1  remember  rightly ;  but  the  number  mat- 
ters nothing.     They  are  Van  Dyck's  Magdalene,  an  admirable 
Christ  by  Rembrandt,  and  three  Poussins,  one  of  them  a  master- 
piece.    These  five  pictures  are  preserved  by  tlieir  master  with 
religious  respect,  in  a  saloon  built  expressly  for  them,  lighted 
from  above— i.lols  in  a  temple.     The  other  gallery  does  norbear 
comparison  with  this,  though  it  has  cost  more,  and  may  perhaps 
be  worth  as  much  (about  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs). 
Modern  painUngs  are  not  in  great  honor  at  Marseilles,  and 
whenever  an  artist  of  talent  is  bom  there,  you  may  pity  him. 
Hunger  will  soon  drive  him  toward  Lyons,  toward  ParLs,  or 
even  (such  a  tiling  has  been  known)  as  far  as  Constantinople. 
One  may  well   be    astonished  that  tlie  rich  mcn.hants,  when 
building  in  tlie  town  or  in  the  country  are  prodigal  of  marbles, 
stuccos,  rare  woods,  and  jirecious  metals,  and  are  penurious  only 
in  art,  which  is  the  most  beautiful  luxury  of  life.     I  have  visited 
by  the  sea-side  very   elegant  country-seat.^,  marvelously  situ- 
ated, well  bJiilt,  well  furnished,  cftrpetcd  with  rare  plants,  sur- 
rounded by  delicious  fountains,  peopled  with  miracles  of  birds, 
and  disgraced  by  pot-house  frescoes.     One  millionaire  only  had 


THE   JOURNEY. 


17 


I 


had  the  courage  to  introduce  artists  into  his  house  in  Marseilles 
and  his  villa  at  Montredon.  Will  the  example  be  foUowed  ?  I 
hope  so,  but  I  do  not  expect  it.  It  is  not  imj^ossible  tJiat  the  new 
generation  may  be  seized  wiUi  a  curiosity  for  the  arts  but  if  I 
am  to  ti'ust  my  presentiments,  it  wiU  take  by  preference  to  horses, 
carriages,  and  all  the  silhness  of  "  sport." 

Shooting  is  already  in  high  honor  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Canebiere.     It  is  pleasant  to  hear  the  Marseillaise  themselves 
ridicule  their  passion  for  that  noisy  exercise.     In  fact,  they  are 
more  noisy  than  successful  over  it,  for  game  is  almost  impossible 
to  find  in  the  district     A  sportsman  will  go  oft  into  the  country 
with  seven-league  boots,  and  bring  home  a  lark.     Every  chlteau 
every  villa,  every  country-house,  and  even  the  most  modest  cot-' 
tJige,  IS  provided  witJi  a  snare  for  thrushes.    This  is  an  arbor  of  foli- 
age surrounded  by  perches  which  await  the  bird.    Woe  to  the  poor 
creature  that  trespasses  in  the  department  of  the  mouths  of  the 
Iwhone.     Lvery  tree  on  which  it  ti-ies  t^  alight,  brings  it  under 
the  fire  of  an  enemy.     It  fl.es  from  one  snare  to  another,  in  the 
midst  of  lead,  noise,  and  smoke,  until  it  falls  dead,  and  a  hundred 
sportsaien  rush  in  pell-mell  to  dispute  the  prey.     In  the  absence 
of  thruslies,  they  shoot  blackbirds;  in  the  absence  of  blackbirds 
sparrows;   in  the  absence  of  sparrows,  swallows.     A  swallow' 
they  say,  seUs  for  four  sous  in  the  market     The  country  is  de- 
I>opulated  of  birds,  for  the  Marseillaise  marksmen  have  an  eyo 
tliat  never  misses  its  aim.     If,  in  the  deep  quiet  of  a  night  in 
spring,  the  nightingale  should  imprudently  raise  her  beautiful 
clear  voice,  tlie  sport^smen  would  soon  take  the  field,  and  would 
not  miss  her. 

I  was  not  present  at  any  of  this  unreal  shooting,  and  I  re- 
peat what  my  friends  at  Mai^eilles  toM  me  on  the  subject     But 
I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes  the  Marseillaise  at  the  theater 
and  It  IS  always  an  interesting  sight     They  are  sincere  lovers  of  . 
music  hke  all  the  peoples  of  the  South  :  I  can  not  get  rid  of  the 
Idea  that  a  trifle  of  aflectation  enters  hito  the  dilett^tism  of  the 
Aortli     The  Marseillaise,  then,  are  fond  of  music,  and  go  to  the 
opera  for  sometliing  besides  saying,  '^I  went  there."    Are  tliev 
great  connoisseui-s  •/    Iwouldnotsweartx.it     Is  there  really  a 
I)ubl,c  among  them  that  understands  it?     I  heard  last  evenL 
an  Italian  parterre  a],plaud  the  singers  every  time  they  slirieked 
too  High ;  and  the  same  phenomenon  often  occurs  at  Marseilles 


18 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


The  pure  and  classical  talent  of  Mme.  Caroline  Dnnrez  meets 
wuh  a  hearty  tnumph  there;  but  when  M.  ArmandUs  in  " 
that  ,s  qu,te  a  d.flerent  thing.    M.  Armandi  is  a  more  than  m^ 
diocre  tenor;  ye  have  seen  him  suflbr  .shipwreck  at  the  opera,  Z 
the  character  of  Robert.     In  due  time  he  came  to  Mat^-.r  and 
there,  for  the  tnfle  of  five  thou.sand  francs  a  month,  he  ^dtes 
alternately  the  enthusiasm  and  the  rage  of  the  public     He    s 
kssed  and  applauded  in  the  s.,me  air;  apples  are  Lown  at  him 
as  well  as  bouquets;  they  praise  him  to  the  skies,  and  threa  lu 

^iri" " ''"  ''"'°^-  '"^  """^^  "^ ""'« p"-^'-  ^'-la t; 

ff'^^V^  Taudevilles  are  served  up  to  it  in  a  hall  that  is 
tolerably  d.rty,  but  always  full ;  it  is  in  fashion.  I  saw  there 
fe  first  rcjpresenuuon  of  an  unpublished  drama  of  M.  Alexandre 
Dum..s  -Les  Gardes  Foresrie,^."     The  piece  was  an  improvhl! 

malr     '"r^J'^'V"  ^'"^  ■"-""'  '^°  '"«"  »'"'  ''-/of"l  c 
master.     The  pubhc  showed  itself  undecided  tmtil  the  end  of  le 
h.rd  act;  would  neither  say  yes  nor  no.     It  was  flattered  to 
learn  that  a  man  of  talent  and  reputation  had  come  ft^m  Paris 
purposely  to  offer  it  his  first  performance,  but  its  susp  dol  vau- 
Ky  was  not  w.lhng  to  be  duped  by  accepting  a  rejS  p Lee 
Two  or  three  excellent  scenes  complelely  reassured  it^  and 
proved  conclusively  that  it  w..s  not  being  laughe.1  at.     ThenC"; 
a  mad  demonstrafon  of  joy,  a  frenzy  of  admiration,  which  wS 
appeased  three  hours  after  the  fall  of  the  curtain.     The  nie  rf  the 
author  was  pro^Maimed  in  the  midst  of  a  shower  of  bourr  tJe 
AVorkmens  Athenreum  threw  upon  the  sta-^e  a  crown  n/  ^U 
paper  as  large  as  Saturn's  ring    the  director  brou^hT  in  on^^a 
tot  Zr?;"  ''T  "'  """'^^  ^"■-^-  "-  -'ho"  d"a"  d 

'hall   followed   l2        \n     n\  ''.I  '"  ^"^''^^■'  ''">^'^°'« 

under  his  w  nd  t     WUll  n    "T       "'"'T  ""  °^=-''"'^"^ 

ihc  u  1  ^     '  -^  ^^">^'  "^  ^'^3  obliged  to  annear  if 

tt  p\t;?-brtrcrtr;b^  trn  ^rt-^  ^^ 

before  three  o'clock  in  the  mor' n  ."^^   .^    ^  ./^^Maf 

d!f  r-  "'"^"  !'7  •''^°"  •'-""-'--  into  a  thing.     Se  n4 
day,  the  piece  did  not  pay  its  e\-oen<!,.s     Ti...  \r        ,,        , 


THE  JOURNEY. 


19 


( 


I 


laugh,  was  too  easily  written.  Still  the  bill  of  the  Gymnase 
announced  in  laro^e  letters,  *'  Les  Gardes  Forestiers,  by  M.  Alex- 
andre Dumas,  member  of  tlie  Workmen's  Athenkum  of  Mar- 
seilles." The  same  day  was  given  at  the  opera,  *'  The  Barber 
of  Seville,  by  MM.  Beaumarchais,  and  Castilblaze."  I  like  that 
3fnnsici(r  Beaumarchais. 

You  would  only  half  know  the  people  of  Marseilles  if  I 
forgot  to  tell  you  that  they  are  the  sworn  enemies  of  the  people 
of  Aix.  Athens  was  never  more  incensed  against  her  neighbors 
at  ^gina.  Aix  is  a  superannuated  great  city  ;  she  has  under- 
gone misfortunes;  she  still  has  traces  of  beauty.  Especially  she 
still  has  an  Imperial  Court,  an  archbishopric,  and  a  little  Sarbonne, 
which  would  greatly  please  the  citizens  of  Marseilles.  They  ask 
themselves  with  some  dissatisfaction  v/hy  these  things  are  not 
for  sale  at  the  market. 

The  inhabitants  of  Aix  do  no  business  and  make  no  money. 
They  have  good  names,  fine  houses,  considerable  chateaux,  bur- 
dene.l  with  some  mortgages.  They  look  from  pretty  high  gi-ound 
upon  the  mercantile  spirit  and  restless  activity  of  the  Marseil- 
laise ;  they  pride  themselves  on  disdaining  material  things  ;  they 
attend  the  lectures  of  the  Faculty  of  Literature;  their  kingdom 
IS  not  of  this  world  ;  they  are  pure  spirits  ;  they  are  like  the  lily 
of  the  valley,  which  can  neither  spin  nor  weave,  but  wear  white 
garments  for  all  that.  If  all  the  towns  of  France  were  animated 
with  that  spirit,  we  should  not  be  at  the  head  of  civilization. 

You  should  hear  tlie  Marseillaise  on  the  subject  of  their  neigh- 
bors I     I  remember,  one  day,  in  the  month  of  March,  there  was 
a  score  of  us  seated,  all  talkative,  after  dinner,  in  the  conser^'a- 
tory  of  a  chateau  which  overlooks  the  sea.     The  conversation 
had  already  gone  two  or  three  times  round  the  world.     One 
guest  had  told  us  how  a  certain  Egyptian  Pasha,  desirous  of 
heading  his  troops  with  European  music,   wrote  to  his  corre- 
spondent at  Marseilles  to  sc^nd  him  some.     The  merchant  bought 
the  most  improved  in.nruments  and  shipped  them  for  Alexandria. 
The  Pasha,  delighted  with  the  beauty  of  so  many  brass  instru- 
meiit-,  distributed  them  immediately  amon*  the  most  vigorous 
soldiers  of  his  army,  and   bade  them,  under  the  penalty  of  the 
stick,  play  him    something.     They  executed  a  cacophony   so 
monstrous  that  they  were  lustily  beaten  and  others  sent  for. 
After  several  experiments,  equally  unsuccessful,  the  Pasha  con- 


20 


KOME   OF  TO-DAY. 


THE  JOURXKY. 


21 


ceived  doubts  as  to  tho  oiiillfir  r.f  *u 

been  sent  to  l.im.  Hemade  7  rl  f  .'"*^';'""«'i^«  ^t-eh  I.a.l 
tl.at  l.e  had  done  hfbe"  and  a  In?  ''  '''  ''"'"''  P™'-'"'' 
At  l..„,„,  it  occu,xea  to" he Trtei  lai"e  T'TT''"'"  '"''"'''■ 
had  any  n,u.sieian.s.  "Parbleur  r  i""'"^'  ""^  ^"^''^  "'  ''« 
-usi.. L  I  should  not  h!  in  tnt  7^:^"  "'""'    "'^  ^  ■"''' 

tlie  armor  on  them  with  l>is  o^n  hand    sta  ion  d   1        ''''''  ''"' 
pact  group,  and  fired  at  tl,-.  „,  stationed  them  m  a  corn- 

Not  only  does  the  black  monaT  T  T"""  '""'"'  ^""'  ^^P^- 

j..;e^sthe,r^;r-r-,si:-i3 

away  some  huge  spider's  web    •,  1  ,  '"'«™"».  »■•  Crushed 

the  company  had  made  bin  ^f  '^°°'  ""^  *  ''''"P-    ^no  of 

of  Aix  for  a  score  of  million  >  ^""'"'"^  '«  l"'y  the  houses 
After  thi,s  faslJon  areW^  r  '  ""r  '°  '"™  ''"'  ""  "'«  "'^'ivcs. 
faculties  woul  We  h  ;  S'"'  '"''"-'™'  ^°"«'  ""^  "■«  ^'-eo 
seilles.     This  id  1  amu^  L      '"= , "'  ""^^'""?,  to  ,nove  to  Mar- 

-ore  conuo  to  you ll  el!r,"'  "  "^  """'''  ^''"  '"«"''<''7 
speaker,  the  li  -elcss  of  hi  '"^""''  ''"*■■  ''''  Sutures  of  the 
W  and  all  the  w  all  the  1  T^n 'T'  "'"  "^""'"'"^^  "f  '"3 
the  hun,or  which  1  <  Ued  uj  ev^  v  f '  '  "iT  ^'°"'  '"'"■•'■'  -"J  «» 
andre  Dumas  is  per!  al  the  fir^M  ti'' ""  "^^  '""'''^"^^■-  ^^^  -^l-''- 
sation  he  ahnost*^  od  1  n^t  ^""  'f  ^'•'""••^^"'  ""^  ««"'--^- 
seillaise  eloquencl  of  if  rJ    \1  "  '""'"''  i'"''"'-     The  Mur- 

-Alanufacturer'  1       ''""'';"'  '""^  overwhehned  him. 
Marseille^       '  '''''  ''°^'  ''P'"'^^"'''"""  divide-  the  city  of 

~,  .be  coal  Uta  Jlhe  Cn -Sl^  i^r 


I 


IS  carried  economically  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  sea  Mar- 
seilles wiU  shortly  become  one  of  the  capitals  of  French  industry 
and  Its  Cictories  wUl  make  a  din  loud  enough  to  wake  Bord.^aux 
iteauwhile,  the  chief  branches  of  manufacturing  in  the  city 
aheady  employ  some  twenty  thousand  workmen.  Abundance  of 
sugar,  oil,  and  soap  are  made  here;  for  we  are  in  tl.e  metropolis 
ot  the  ircnch  grocery  business. 

Cane  sugar  comes  to  us  from  the  colonies  in  boxes  or  in  ba<^ 
m  the  form  of  blackisli,  grumous  dust.     The  Marseilles  refiners 
mix  ,t,  melt  it,  boil  it,  clarify  it,  dry  it  in  loayes,  and  pulyerize  it 
again.     They  scatter  on  all  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  this 
will  e,  crystaUme,  shining  powder,  of  which  the  people  of  the 
South  are  so  fond.    The  transformation  of  brown  su-rar  into  white 
used  to  take  three  or  four  weeks  at  the  time  when  the  yoyage  from 
MarseUles  to  Constantinojile  took  three  or  four  months.    Now 
steam,  whicli  can  do  eyery  thing,  transforms  sugar  in  eight  days' 
and  transports  it  in  a  week,  an.i  our  reOncrs  turn  over  their  cap- 
ital every  moment,  so  to  speak.     Of  a  hundred  million  kilo- 
grammes consumed  every  year  in  the  Mediterranean,  MarseiUes 
furnishes  twenty.    The  Belgians  and  Dutch  do  the  rest.    Within 
ten  years,  if  it  pleases  God,  the  wliole  market  will  be  ours,  and 
Mi^seiUes  will  be  In  a  condition  to  sugar  the  Mediterranean  as  if 
It  were  a  simple  cup  of  coffee. 

It  is  not  olive  oil  that  is  made  at  Marseilles:  get  that  pre- 
judice out  of  your  mind.     Olive  oil  is  made  in  th^  country  on 
a  small  scale,  m  proportion  to  tlie  crops,  which  are  always  mod- 
erate;  It  13  almost  a  domestic  manufacture.     The  mills  of  the  city 
which  run  twenty-four  hours  a  day,  would  crush  in  one  moment 
all  the  olives  of  Provence.    Olives  are  too  unsubstantial  food  to 
put  under  their  teeUi;  bring  them  vessels  laden  with  ses;.me 
earUi-nuts,  or  cocoa-nuts ;  that  is  the  food  that  a-rees  with  them' 
Open,  Sesame  !    It  is  the  phrase  of  Aladdin  in  the  story  of  the 
Thousand  aud  One  Nights.    At  that  magic  phrase,  the  treasure 
cave  opened  wide.    Who  would  liave  told  us,  when  we  were  chil- 
dren, that  tlie  sesame,  apart  from  all  magic,  contained  inexhaust- 
ible treasures  ?    It  is  a  Utile  grain  from  India,  flat,  long,  and 
blackish      I  have  seen   some   mountains   of  it   in   the  store- 
l"^uses  of  Mareeilles.     They  pass  it  into  the  rolling  mill.     Open, 

fT'L    '^  :*''"*-'  °"  '^'""=-'  <■■•"■»  i'-  «'«^^a>-,  and  excellent  for 
toorl.    Then  they  roll  it  under  onormons  miU-stoiies  of  Scotch 


22 


EOME   Of  lO-D AY. 


f-'n'e.     Open,  Sesame/    Tl 

drauhc  presses,  whierh     T^^  '"^""''  ''t  to  tJ,e  ,  ,■ 

^hiW  breaks  a    or      ^^'"'^  »  -^o'^nin  of  le     '""°'' ^^  V 

•■"'J  when  thevl' !       ?""  "  °"  ^r  soan-Zl-  "  ^'"'^  hot 

the  nut  C  ''"''-""''  'he  col.a  t  "'"''  ''«^""ies      n 

-  ^"-  'C:i?„rtt-x;r'''''«°-^st:r  ^""'^ 

^  <^an  not  leave  the  o  I,      i"^'«  "'Suez.  "*" "  ='•'''" 

"■' '»«. « i;4"  "*  « ."  ~m.t  «:""«•''  <■""■ 

r--  Clrr>'' """-  ^-"t  aT^;':  "^  ^^^ 

furnaces-  ^.^^  ^'^  ^^  some  imn      .    "  ^"  adjommp-  dp. 

^K"  'h^VSrt  •?  ''-^"''  ^  ho  "StT'^''^^^^^^^^^ 
"""0,  .he  only  one  n  '      °  ""^  '^  half  of /iC  i'"'  ^'^"""""e. 

Tins  remarkable  -,n,l        '       ^-^  ""'hin-  aboni  "'  ''""i-h- 

fo;  the  whole  oft  r '"''""' "'"'•""'^^^^"^h^^?'"""^^^^^^^^ 
'^•hat  a  near  relatL  ,         '"'"'  herself.     Yon  ,  ^""ndation 

^'he  n.annfaeC  ?"'"  '  ^■""'"^  ""^^'"'-■^ 

""ont,  like  that  of  n,l '  T''  ''*  "°'  -'"sceptible  of        , 
the  past  t,ro  h„n  Ir         ''  '"='"-    -T'  has  bu7 1    ,   ,'""''  ''"P'-ove- 

'•'•''h'- of  Jupit,;  "•;''''" -'he  spran,.        ',elt  '""^  "'"  "« 

«"''t  sinee  tie  ^^eo.^i:  ?'^  '""'hlieatioS^  f.  """-^  ^'•«'»  'ho 

^^etories,  whose  n,  '°  ''"''''"  of  somt  ?   "'^  »osamo  has 

^"''rter  ou  Hf  t       M  '^^''S^oeably  Sd  "th      >"•     ^^"^  ^o"!- 


n 


) 


THE   JOUKXEY. 


23 


enormous  cauldron?,  heated  by  invisil.lo  fires,  silently  boil  and 
foam.     A  short  distance  from  them  the  soap  is  coolinir  in  lar^-e 
reservoirs.     The  cutting  it  into  blocks,  the  weighing  and  pack- 
ing, are  all  done  by  liand,  steam  having  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
These  enormous  buildings  are  temples  of  patriarchal  industry 
and  hereditary  piobity.     The  manufacturer's  constant  endeavor 
is  to  maintain  the  reputation  of  his  brand,  and  that  is  no  easy 
matter.     The  slightest  adulteration  of  the  oils  he  uses  may  spoil 
a  vat  full  of  soap.      It  is  especially  to  its  soap  factories  that 
Marseilles  formerly  owed  its  rcput^ition  lor  filth  and  unhealthi- 
ness.     Nothing  is  more  nauseous  than  the  process  of  soap-mak- 
ing.    There  is  a  liquid  and  solid  residue  left  after  it  is  made, 
which  the  Marseillaise  of  die  golden  age  deposited  at  their  doors' 
or  allowed  to  drain  into  the  harbor.     The  government  no  longer 
permits  this  liberty,  but  compels  them  to  carry  the  liquid  portFon 
fur  outside  the  harbor,  and  the  fetid,  earthy  residue  to  a  distance 
from  the  city.     I>erhaps  the  soap-making  interest  will  at  some 
time  be  transferred  to  the  suburbs.     Should  the  manufacturers 
decide  to  move  the  distance  of  a  few  kilometers,  they  will  save 
the  cost  of  transportation  and  the  city  dues  which  now  diminisli 
tlieir  profits ;   they  will  restore  to  the  well-to-do  Marseillaise  a 
handsomely-laid-out,  well-built  section  of  the  city,  which  the 
stench  now  renders  uninhabitable.     Factories  for  making  soda 
could  be  established  in  the  vicinity,  where  a  thousand  workmen 
might  labor  <br  them.     I  do  not  stray  too  far  from  the  grocery 
business  if  I  mention  that  there  are  in  Jklarseilles  eighteen  sulphur 
refineries  and  forty  factories  of  Italian  paste.     There  also  aro 
prepared  those  sweetmeats  of  the  South  which  have  given  Cas- 
telmuro  a  reputation  over  all  Europe.      But  the  canal  of  the 
Durance,  by  enriching  a  loamy  soil,  has  increased  the  beauty  of 
the  fruits,  to  the  detriment  of  their  flavor.     The  crop  is  more 
plentiful,  and   they  are  larger  in  consequence  of  being  better 
nourished ;  but  they  have  lost  the  delicate  taste  which  distin- 
gui^rhes  those  produced  in  more  barren  soils.    Fruits  are  hke 
men — a  httle  poverty  makes  them  better. 

I  also  saw  at  Marseilles  truly  a  curious  little  machine,  and  if  I 
mistake  not,  the  only  one  of  its  kind.  It  was  for  the  manufac- 
ture of  bottle  corks,  where  all  was  done  by  steam.  I  have 
sometimes  seen  a  workman  cut  out  corks  from  the  bark  of  a 
cork  tree  with  a  sharp  knife,  and  it  seemed  to  me  impossible  that 


24 


BOJ£E  OP  TO-DAT. 


he  ^vould  certainly  tave?,         °'  "'^««  "'ou^L^  i'  ''"^  '^'^n 
could  shoB^  vo,.  t,        ,      '"'"  """nted  amon„  .t^      ^'"'"  ''•■"'''er, 

Uie  aJmpe  of  a  cvlim      J  '  '""'^''  •'  over  inrl  k    ,   ""ey  seized 

-no,  .topped  tot ;:;  'r":;"  •'  °'^  -"S?  n  tt  T'  '■'  '■"'o 

retouched  iT  r,  ^^^  »]  rirrJit  *k^^     f  ^^  ^"o  form  of  a 

-0  a  bi-  rrr ""  ''-"^Xs '  tT  'v^""-"- 

t°  '-atcl,  these  "ron  7'°^"'«  ove«eer  t/'-  ^"*''  ""^'S 
"'°^ni»?  to  nHrw,r'"'""'=°'  '^''°  '"for  30  'r/'"'  "'--^"rj 
'«'>,  no  other  ^our^      "°  °""^'-  ^'-mulant  tlL        "'''"'''^  fr°m 

the  cork  than  tl>e  .-reat  n  ""*  ''''""eJ  a  fraett         ^  '^''^ 

h-heveit,  but,  even  r,/r'  "'^  *  -^o^k-maker     ir     """'  "' 
--Pensate  their  b^'  '''  '''''''^  <^^"-"al  iabo^  ^^.t't 
I  have  said  notl,in^  of  ,1        •  ""'^ 

'hey  give  emploympnt",  """wteries  of  ir,r,„„ 

"<"•  of  the  tanne.  °  ""'"'  ">an  eleven  ,    "^f 'H  "'though 

those  magni£7f'  T'  "'"  '■°'-""->  "or  Ihe  ""'7'  ^^"^'''^n. 
have  seen  fro^ ll  ['^^'"'^  "'^  ^  Ciotlt.  jt T""''"''^'  »«>•  "f 
;--  the  goodTeJ  '      Er /'-'   the  oii  ?:r^''  "^  ^°" 

°f  the  .AiedS:::?  'v!""" "-  -^^ct^r--  ''^^^"''^ 

f:«at  to  attract  na w!  j  ""  ''"''hor  Privi,e.^rar"''L'"''™« 
''"on  to  those  of  Trhe t  '^^"^ .""  f'art.,  and^eve^  l'"'^'^'''"''^ 
afe  exempt  fro,,,  ,,,  ^""'-■'S'^  vesse L  tn,,  i  "  ''"'"Pe- 

to  certain  d,„rt  3  ir'  '""•    -^ '-^ncV  ^l:"^ '°°"  "'  ^arseiLs 
"hid,  t),e  p,inrar/Tr"""''^«°J  o'earane       t"",  '"^J''^'  ""'y 

.^-'^  '^"ogr':,.::^  'Z  t  '"^  ^''-  fiCfrant"'"*"*"*  "'- 
free  from  ti,e  ev,;;    /  ^  '"'  ""Po'ted  h.  tJ,!,       ^^'  """  hun- 

«  here  two  ye^^  1  >     '*"•  "■'"'^h  every'vj  "      '""''''■''•     '"'ho 


»wH,$»-^VBrii*is 


THE   JOURXEY. 


25 


These    htllo    facilities    produce   very    great    results       The 
bonded  warehouse  of  Marseilles  received  i,t  1856  e  'ht \iIlioIs 
and  a  half  cuntals  by  measurement,  reprosentin,  property  v^ 
ued  a  four  h.mdred  and  seventy-niue  .nilhons  ol'francs     Th^  L 
ahnost  four-n,nths  of  the  goods  received  at  the  w^W 
throughout  l.,.„ce.     The  same  year  the  revenue  from  the  cns- 
to,n  house  at  Marseilles  gave  a  total  of  more  than  thirty-six  ml 
.ons  five  hundred  thousand  francs.     On  the  31st  of  Cm^r 
there  were  e.ght  hund.ed  and  eighty-two  sailing  vcKsels  ow>,ed 
m  the  e,ty,  registered  at  one  hundred  and  on^  thousand  tv^ 
Imndred  and  forty-two  tons.    But  the  real  source  of  W  futu-e 
greatne.,a,,d  wealth  lies  in  her  stc.an,  ma,ine.     You  would  bo 
astonished  ,    I  shouhl  tell  you  all  about  a  company"  unpretenj! 
n.g  and  m,^,ng  little  noise,  which  has  its  officL  a    MaSs 
t3  boats  at  La  Jo  iette,  and  it3  dockyards  at  La  Ciotat.    iTl: 

2;  7       1  ''■"''  """"^  ''"°'=^'  '■■"-^P°"^  ^-o  hundred  aTd 
thirty  tl,«usand  passengers,  and  sixty-seven  thousand  tons  of 

mc,chand,se  m  its  vessels,  which  traverse  a  distance  of  ti,reo 
hund,.d  thousand  leagues,  and  all  this  with  little  ostenta  ion  or 
heraldry.    You  can  get  so.ne  idea  of  the  variety  and  magn^Lo 
of  lis  operat,ons  when  I  tell  yon  that  every  year  there  is  ^„t  t^ 
-ts  address  at  MarseUles  alone,  more  than  L^y  thousan    TotL^ 
I   efer,  of  course  to  the  Company  of  the  Mcssagcies  Lnporiale;" 
wluch  was  first  started  on  U,e  8th  of  July,  1851.     Up  to  that  time 
the  transportation  of  dispatches,  passenge,.,  and  freight  on^e 
Meu,tenanean  was  the  privilege  of  U.e  post  office  department 
1.8  vessels,  generally  slow,  traversed  only  about  ninety'^^houslnd 
leagues,  and  realized,  in  1847,  a  deficit  for  the  year  of  four  mU- 
1-ons  and  a  half  exclusive  of  the  general  expenses,  tl,e"t 
on  U,e  capital  .nvested,  the  insurance  and  the  de^reciatbn  of 
property.     Not  n,oro  U,an  twenty-seven  thousand  passcn^erl 
and  nine  thousand  tons  of  freight  were  transj.orted  by  it.     Tto 
aw  of  tl,e  Sa,  of  July,  by  substituting  the  activity  of  Jrivat^  in^ 
tere.,  for  the  stagnation  of  official  routine,  increased  almost  ten- 
fold the  nuniber  of  pas.sengers  and  quantity  of  freight;  and  this 
nuracle  has  been  accomplished  in  less  than  ten  yea^ 

T  il™)T'"V'''"'  ^""^  "S"'  "'  ""=  ^"^'^  °^  this  Company,  and 
I  can  therefore  estnnate  tl,e  progress  which  has  been  made. 

J'i't     T  "?;     ?'"""^'''  ^^  ""=  '^•^Paff^ent,  have  been  cast 
aside.    The  fifty  ships  which  now  plow  the  waves  of  the  Medi- 

2 


26 


ROME   OP   TO-DAY. 


terranean,  form,  of  tiicmselves,  a  fine  navy.  They  do  not  make 
five  leajnics  an  hour,  like  the  Le  VaUetta  and  Le  Vecti,  of  the 
Peninsular  Company,  but  they  average  ten  knots  no  matter 
how  heavily  loaded,  or  what  wo.tther.  Th,>  pa?sen<;er  will  find 
all  the  comforts  of  life  on  board,  but,  above  all,  that  cleanliness 
so  peculiarly  French,  which  any  one  who  has  made  a  vova-e  or 
two  under  a  foreign  Hag  can  highly  appreciate.  La,.tly  "their 
commanders  are  geiitl.'men,  no  more  wolCsh  than  you  or  I 

The  Company,  which  provides  for  everything,  employs  screw 
steamers  for  the  direct  routes,  and  side- wheel  steamers  for  the 
voyages  along  the  coast.  Travelers  pressed  for  time  do  not 
stop  to  think  of  the  rolling  of  the  ship,  but  the  young  couples 
spending  their  honeymoon  traveling  from  irarseilles  to  Genoa 
rom  Genoa  to  Leghorn,  from  Leghorn  to  Civita-Veoohia  and 
rom  thence  to  Naples,  sleep  in  a  more  stable  equilibrium  between 
the  large  wheels  of  the  paddle  steamers. 

Rapidity  of  transportation  has  given  wings  to  the  commerce 
of  MarseiUes.    Every  day  steam  monopolizes  more  an.l  more  of 
tlio  co.-,.ting  trade  of  the  Mediterranean,  which  is  becoming  a 
Marseillaise  lake.    It  is  not  worth  the  while  to  enumerate  hero 
tlie  various  kinds  of  merchandise  which  the  city  exports  to  the 
-t-ast ;  the  eight  pages  of  a  newspaper  would  hardly  suffice  for 
tlie  hst     I  prefer  to  tell  you,  in  short,  that  the  merchants  of 
Man<eilles  sell  everything.     I„  exchange  they  import  the  raw 
products  of  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Ulack  Sea,  the  harvests 
ol  America,  Africa  and  India,  cotton,  leather,  spirit^,  sugar;   but 
before  and  above  all,  every  species  of  grain.     I  have  ju'st  sLid  a 
word  about  the  oil-producing  grain,  but  a  book  could  be  written 
concennng  the  importation  of  those  that  are  edible.     France 
made  five  wretched  crops  between  1852  and  18.J7.     Who  nour- 
ished us  meanwhile?    Marseilles.     The  CanebicVe  has  in  six 
years,  seen  pa.s3  from  it  more  than  thirteen  millions  of  loads  of 
grain.     In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1856,  when  the  harvests 
o  Russia  were  blockaded  in  the  Sea  of  Azoff,  when  the  mercury 
of  our  m.arkets  went  up  higher  and  higher,  the  merchants  of  Mar- 
seilles ran  to  Naples,  and  to  Alexandria,  and  empUed  Uie  grana- 
nes  of  Lgypt,  and  of  the  SicUies. 

During  this  advance  in  prices,  the  end  of  which  no  one  could 
foretell,  si>eeulat,on  in  grain  rose  to  a  most  dangerous  hci.^ht. 
The  trader  sought  for  it  even  at  the  source,  and  p^id  no  nLtter 


r 


THE  JOURNEY. 


27 


' 


\ 


what  price,  sure  of  selling  it  again  at  a  profit.  Indeed,  while 
the  cargo  was  on  its  way,  wafted  by  a  prosperous  wind  toward 
Marseilles,  it  was  called  for  in  the  market^  sold,  resold— always 
with  an  increase  in  price— until  it  sometimes  changed  hands 
twenty  times  before  it  reached  the  harbor.  Between  the  buyer 
and  the  seller  stood  the  broker,  a  cunning  man,  interested  in 
multiplying  the  transactions,  and  increasing  the  prices.  Tliese 
c.iriroes  of  grain  frequently  passed  through  so  many  hands  that 
the  sale  realized  only  enough  to  pay  the  commission  upon  it. 
One  of  the  principal  brokers  of  Marseilles,  a  young  man,  who 
veritably  has  a  genius  for  the  business,  gained  in  one  year  one 
million  two  hundred  thousand  francs. 

This  wild  speculation  of  the  citizens  may  have  occasioned 
failures,  and  affected  trade,  but  let  us  not  forget  that  it  furnished 
us  with  bread. 

It  was  unavoidable  that  the  return  of  more  prosperous  times 
and  Hie  consequent  fall  in  prices  of  all  kinds  of  food,  should 
affect  many  of  these  dealers.  The  financial  crises  affecting  cer- 
tain branches  of  trade  are  the  inevitable  consequences  of  the 
development  of  credit.  Our  fathers  were  not  acquainted  with 
them,  but  they  knew  perfectly  what  a  famine  is. 

Speculation  in  government  and  manufacturing  stocks  is  com- 
paratively a  recent  thing  in  Marseilles.  Nevertheless,  it  is  calcu- 
lated that  between  the  first  of  January,  1855,  and  the  first  of 
January,  1858,  more  than  a  hundred  miJHon  francs  worth  of 
etock  certificates  were  sold  in  Marseilles  alone.  By  stocks  I 
mean  those  possessing  a  value,  such  as  government  funds,  rail- 
road stocks,  and  guaranteed  bonds.  Up  to  that  time  the  board 
of  brokers  had  carried  on  a  thankless  business.  The  members 
were  in  the  habit  of  negotiating  stocks  of  very  little  value,  on 
account  of  penniless  speculators.  They  sold  interests  in  mines 
whose  locality  even  was  doubtful,  in  turf-pits  equally  hard  to 
find,  and  stocks  of  banks  without  foundation.  At  last,  capital 
was  obhged  to  hide  itself  in  the  deepest  recesses  of  tlie  cash-box 
whenever  a  broker  came  in  sight.  It  is  truth  to  say  that  the 
conipany  of  brokers,  composed  of  divers  elements,  offered  but 
few  guaranties  for  safety.  Seats  at  the  board  were  oflcred  at  fiay 
thousand  francs  without  takers;  ten  brokers  out  of  every  twenty 
were  obliged  to  suspend.  In  addition  to  the  regular  board,  an- 
other of  curb-stone  brokers  had  been  organized,  with  a  president 


28 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


and  place  of  meeting.  The  public,  without  meaning  to  injure 
the  regular  board,  began  at  last  to  look  upon  these  outsiders  in 
the  same  light  as  the  others.  This  by  no  moans  pleased  the 
recrulars,  who  did  not  wish  to  be  compared  with  men  of  such 
poor  credit,  so  deeply  in  debt,  and  so  covered  with  judgments. 
It  happened,  luckily  for  the  reputation  of  the  place,  that  the 
new  board  of  officers  directed  their  attention  to  this  state  of 
affairs.  The  president  himself,  M.  Paul  Blouet,  was  a  young 
man  of  energy  and  integrity,  and  at  once  commenced  legal  pro- 
ceedinsrs  against  the  fictitious  board.  The  legal  tribunal  con- 
demned  the  whole  set  as  if  it  had  been  one  man,  and  thus  freed 
the  corporation  of  this  parasitical  and  compromising  competition. 

The  dispersion  of  the  curb-stone  brokers  was  succeeded  by 
attacks  upon  the  entire  class  of  unlicensed  brokers,  who  then 
found  employment  in  the  requirements  of  trade.  This  class  was 
composed  principally  of  hard-working,  sober  men,  moderately 
supplied  with  money,  doing  a  fair  business,  and  admitted  to  the 
best  society.  They  were  quietly  followed  up,  more  with  the 
idea  of  compelling  tliem  to  prociu'o  licenses  than  with  the  hope 
of  entirely  exterminating  them.  Every  one  of  them  was  forci-d 
to  purchase  one  of  tlie  seats  then  vacant,  and  in  the  end  the 
board  was  letl  without  a  rival. 

These  men  being  reliable,  managed  their  business  in  an  honw^t 
manner.  Stocks  of  local  value  were  never  allowed  to  be  quoted 
at  rates  on  time,  but  only  as  sales  for  cash.  Investments  on  a 
Large  scale,  like  tliose  on  tlie  Paris  exchange,  were  the  result. 
Stock  transactions  daily  increiised  in  magnitude,  until  to-day  the 
cost  of  a  seat  at  the  board,  which  was  oftered  not  long  ago  for 
fitly  thousand  francs,  is  now  worth  from  one  hundred  and  twenty 
to  one  hu!ulred  and  fifty  thousand. 

It  is  only  necessary  to  visit  Bordeaux,  Lyons,  or  Marseilles,  to 
discover  that  the  brokers'  boards  of  provincial  cities,  if  v»'ell 
manacred,  tend  to  draw  away  stock  speculation  from  one  central 
point.  Formerly  Paris  was  the  only  market.  Ortlers  to  purchase 
or  st'll  were  sent  thither  from  the  whole  of  France.  The  provin- 
cial agents  had  been  appointed  only  for  the  sale  and  purchase  of 
notes  and  bills  of  exchange,  precisely  hke  the  merchandise  brokers ; 
in  proof  of  which  they  are  still  classed  with  them,  and  are  under 
the  supervision  of  tlie  Muiister  of  Commerce.  The  brokers  of 
Paris,  who  engaged  only  in  transactions  in  stocks,  were  placed 


THE   JOUKNEY. 


29 


in  a  special  category,  and  under  the  supervision  of  the  Minbter 
of  Finance.  Whenever  any  individual  at  Marseilles,  Bordeaux, 
or  Lyons  wished  to  buy  or  sell  some  stock,  he  was  obliged  to 
apply  to  the  Receiver-General,  who  directed  the  completion  of 
the  transaction  at  Paris  through  the  agency  of  a  broker.  But 
since  the  regulation  of  the  i>rovincial  boards,  stocks  can  be 
bought  and  sold  equally  well  at  Marseilles  and  at  Paris,  and  the 
merchants  of  Bordeaux  or  Lyons  can  speculate  on  the  rise  and 
fall  through  their  own  brokers,  without  the  trouble  of  commu- 
nicating tlirough  the  Receiver-General.  This  change  is  much 
more  important  and  serviceable  to  the  provinces  than  would  be 
supposed  at  first  sight  In  times  of  political  crisis  or  financial 
pam'c  the  collections  of  largo  uumbefs  of  orders  for  sale  at  one 
point  have  a^Uirect  tendency  to  depreciate  credit  and  enhance  tho 
decline.  Their  distribution  through  the  provincial  markets,  by 
dividing  the  blow,  lessens  its  severity. 

It  is  exactly  a  year  since  I  blamed  with  all  my  power  the 
Municipal  Council  of  Bordeaux,    i  reproached  it  witli  being  rich 
from  ill-gotten  gains.     I  charged  it  with  a  niggardly  manage- 
ment of  the  funds  of  a  wealthy  and  powerful  city,  and  Uamed 
it  for  seeming  to  creep  along  in  the  road  to  luxury  and  progress 
in  which  aU  the  rest  of  France,  imitating  Paris,  was  rushing  at  a 
gallop.     Of  all  the  virtues,  economy  is  certainly  the  most  stupid 
and  uninteresting.     Whenever  an  expense  is  necessary,  it  should 
be  incurred,  without  bargaining  or  waiting.     I  know  a  man  who 
is  compelled  to  travel  six  months  in  a  year,  and  who  makes  it  a 
principle  never  to  pay  too  dearly  for  anything.     This  habit  of 
beating  down  saves  him  about  ten  francs  a  day,  and  detracts 
more  than  a  hundred  francs'  worth  from  Iiis  happiness.     My 
grandfaUier  was  a  very  worthy  farmer,  but  most  careful,  to  his 
misfcjrtune  as  well  as  mine.      He  possessed  at  the  "  Reign  of 
Terror,"  twelve  thousand  francs  and  six  children.     By  chan'ce  an 
opportunity  occurred  to  purchase  at  a  low  rate  the  chateau  of 
the  village,  and  a  largo  adjoining  domain,  now  worth  at  least  a 
million  of  francs.     :My  grandlUther  was  not  such  a  tool  as  to  buy. 
lie  prudently  held  on  to  his  money,  and  when  he  died,  in  1845, 
the  twelve  thousand  francs  were  found  safely  locked  up  in  a 
chest.     I,  myself,  and  I  profess  to  be  no  more  economical  than 
any  other  man,  saw,  a  few  days  ago,  in  a  shop  at  Rome,  tlie 
dagger  of  Trivulcus,  a  memento  avcII  authenticated,  and  of  the 


30 


EOME   OF  TO-DAY. 


THE  JOURXEY. 


31 


greatest  interest.  The  scabbard,  at  least  half  a  yard  in  length, 
was  of  bone,  and  bore  the  name  of  the  original  owner,  his  por- 
trait, the  likeness  of  Louis  XII.,  and  also  of  an  unknown  female, 
whose  name  seems  to  be  ignored  by  history.  This  beautiful 
weapon  was  for  sale  at  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  irancs — it  was 
worth  at  least  four  times  that  sum.  I  allowed  it  to  bo  carried 
off  by  a  second-hand  dealer  in  Paris.  What  should  I  have  done  ? 
I  waited,  like  my  granrlf-ither,  with  this  dinerence,  that  the  one 
hundred  and  fitly  francs  will  never  be  discovered  by  my  heirs.  No 
one  would  ever  think  of  practicing  economy,  who  is  fully  aware 
of  this  incontestible  fact,  namely,  that  gold  and  silver  are  depre- 
ciating almost  imperceptibly  day  by  day,  while  human  labor  and 
ingenuity  are  increasing  in  value.  The  seven  and  a  half  Louis, 
which  I  so  stupidly  kept  in  my  drawer,  are  already  worth  some- 
thing less  than  last  week ;  while  the  dagger  of  Trivulcus,  in  four  or 
five  hundred  years,  will  be  worth  ten  times  its  weight  in  gold. 

If  economy  is  ridiculous  in  private  individuals,  it  is  almost  a 
a  crime  when  practiced  by  a  government.     The  wealth  and 
greatness  of  a  country  do  not  come  from  the  quantity  of  silver 
hoarded  up  by  its  sovereigns,  but  from  that  which  has  been  judi- 
ciously spent.     The  money  which  is  expended  alone  remains, 
the  money  which  is  treasured  up  will  in  the  end  disappear.     The 
authorities  in  the  rural  districts  do  not  accept  this  creed,  because 
they  belong  to  the  same  school  as  my  grandfather,  and  choose  to 
be  mean  for  the  present,  without  regard  to  prospective  advan- 
tages.     Panurge   went   a  little    too    fsxr   in   his   Salmigundian 
kingdom,   but   there   was  more  sense   in   the   httle   finger  of 
Panurge  than  in  the  body  of  a  whole  parliament.     The  habit 
of  cutting  down  appropriations,  and  especially  the  systematic 
procrastination  of  useful  works,  have  cost  France  very  dear.     If 
the  railroad  from  Paris  to  Marseilles  had  been  completed  u  few 
years  earher,  the  port  of  Trieste  would  never  have  attained  its 
present  wealth  at  our  expense.     The  improvements  which  are 
now  being  so  rapidly  made  in  the  crowded  quarters  of  Paris, 
could  have  been  ejected  for  one  half  the  outlay  in  1758.     They 
will  cost  ten  times  as  nuicb,  if  the  delay  of  ollicial  routine  post- 
pones them,  from  year  to  year,  until  1958.     It  follows  from  this, 
that  in  all  works  of  ornament  or  public  utility,  notliing  is  more 
pnident  than  to  be  precipitate,  nothing  is  more  economical  than 
outlay. 


I 

\ 


History,  from  whose  judgment  of  the  acts  of  governments 
there  is  no  appeal,  looks  with  httle  favor  upon  the  millions  they 
liave  hoarded.  It  regards  Galba  as  a  miser,  and  holds  Vespasian 
far  removed  from  the  odor  of  sanctity.  The  extravagances  of 
Louis  XIV.,  although  somewhat  selfish,  have  left  a  more  pleas- 
ant souvenir  than  the  meannesses  of  Louis  XI.  For  this  reason, 
if  we  wish  to  be  blessed  by  our  children,  and  admired  by  pos- 
terity, we  should  expend  all  our  revenues  in  great  and  useful 
works :  it  will  be  the  best  investment. 

We  say  then  that  the  city  of  Bordeaux  drew  too  little  from 
her  revenues  to  pay  for  improvements.  It  is  true  the  previous 
centuries  have  left  her  but  a  small  task.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
inhabitants  of  Marseilles,  who  had  everything  to  accomphsh, 
worked  like  veritable  magicians  for  the  glory  of  their  country. 
They  postponed  nothing ;  they  began  ten  things  at  a  time,  took 
the  lead  in  the  useful,  the  ornamental,  and  the  imposing.  Two 
harbors,  a  canal,  a  city  hall,  an  imperial  residence,  an  exchange, 
a  cathedral,  a  zoological  garden,  were  the  results.  Do  I  forget 
anything  ?  Notliing,  except  the  widening  of  the  Rue  Noailles 
and  Rue  d'Aix.  It  was  a  slight  expenditure  of  nine  millions, 
tliat  widening  of  the  Rue  Noailles,  and  of  seventeen  millions  for 
the  other ;  twenty-six  milhons  of  francs  spent  for  the  simple 
purpose  of  allowing  carriages  to  pass  more  freely  at  the  entrance 
of  the  city.  Louis  XL  and  .people  of  his  class  would  decide  un- 
animously that  they  were  crazy. 

I  allow  that  at  the  outset,  this  apparent  madness  completely 
astounded  me.  I  asked  mysell'— Is  not  this  young  and  energetic 
Marseilles  blindly  squandering  its  present  and  future  resources- 
would  it  not  be  wise  to  give  her  a  judicial  in  place  of  a  municipal 
council  ?  The  city  treasury  has  answered  my  question.  Expenses 
the  most  enormous  and  apparently  the  most  unwise,  become 
trivial  when  he  who  incurs  them  is  on  the  high  road  to  pros- 
perity, when  all  his  undertakings  are  successful,  and  silver  tlirowa 
from  the  window  returns  immediately  by  the  door  in  the  form 
of  gold. 

The  private  enterprises  that  flourish  so  well  at  Marseilles  fully 
prove  tlie  truth  of  tliis  assertion.  The  directors  of  the  theaters 
pay  annually  seventy-five  thousand  francs  for  rent,  five  thousand 
francs  a  month  to  the  principal  tenor,  two  thousand  five  hundred 
to  the  basso,  four  thousand  francs  to  tlie  prima  donna,  and  every- 


32 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


thing  else  in  the  same  proportion.  Nevertheless,  they  deposited 
in  bank  seventy-five  thousand  francs  as  profits  for  the  year  1857 
T^ie  concert  -ardens  of  the  Casino  and  I'Alcozar  display  a  do-ree 
of  luxury  which  is  almost  ridiculous,  which  would  a.tonish"'tlie 
mhahitants  of  Paris ;  but  the  more  they  spend,  the  more  they 
make,  and  the  folly  of  their  extravagance  seems  to  enrich  them 
m  no  time. 

The  sharehoUler.  of  the  zoological  gardou  bo,,^l,t  their  grounds 
mlSoo.  Ihey  pau  for  thorn  one  hundre.l  an.l  eighteen  thou- 
sand franc.,  ,n  add.fon  to  the  expenses  for  buildings  and  ani- 
mals But  the  mcome,  the  receipts  for  the  year  1857  alone  were 
nmety-five  thousand  six  hundred  and  sixty  francs ;  that  i.  the 

But  to  pass  from  small  things  to  great-the  result  is  the  same 

^Zrj'T' °!  .f"'  '"^  '""^"-^^  '"'^y  y^'"-  ^''ti-^r  .00  fast,  but 

ivhat  matters  i  ,  ,f  the  receipts  are  always  one  or  two  mUlions  in 
advance?    I„  1855  they  spent  nearly  ten  millions,  and  rece  ved 
n  return  more  than  twelve;  the  next  year,  for  eleven  expended 
there  were  tlnrteen  returned.    In  1857  the  expenses  seemed  ouN 
rageously  large,  being  eighteen  millions  and  a  half,  but  the  receipts 
were  almost  twenty  miUions.   Do  you  know  that  tlxere  are  oo,m! 
tnes  m  turope  whose  whole  budget  is  iot  so  large  as  tliat  ?    In 
any  case  I  know  of  none  making  such  rapid  strides  in  prosperity 
Everybody  has  so  much  conlidence  in  the  ultiu.ate  dest  ny  of 
Marseilles,  .ts  resources  are  so  well  known,  its  financial  integrity 
BO  estabhshed    that  it  can  borrow  whatever  sum   it  pleasef 
Every  loan  ,t  has  authorized  has  been  taken  up  at  once  by  U.o 
.nhab,tants  at  a  most  moderate  discount:  four  and  a  half  p^r 
cent,  for  by  far  the  largest  portion.     Its  financial  report  can  bo 

ernmen t.  1  he  city,  by  laws  passed  at  various  times,  is  author- 
zed  to  borrow  forty-three  million  two  hundred  nn.i  fifty  thoi^^Tnd 
francs.  It  has  availed  itseU"  of  only  thirty-five  uiillion  sLnlZ 
dred  and  filtythousaml  francs;  it  has  already  reimburse,!  ei"lt 
niUhon  nme  hundred  thousand  francs,  so  that  the  debt  Is  i^any 

Sr  ThT"'  """"?'"  ""'^'^^^^  »"•'  ^''y  tl'ousand  fl  f 
i-oorl  why  any  man  who  has  an  income  of  twenty  thousand 

t"trn.r '^  °f  ^'""f "  "'—  «-  hundrS,  e~n- 
tract  twenty-seven  thousand  francs  of  debts  witliout  incurring 


THE   JOUEXEY. 


33 


any  legal  restraint.  He  would  be  permitted  to  run  in  debt  to 
thrice  this  amount,  if  he  had  any  reason  to  expect  a  future  be- 
quest But  my  Marseilles  is  the  son  of  commerce  and  manu- 
factures, and  possesses  in  the  future  an  incalculable  legacy— has 
no  limit  to  its  expectations. 

The  principal  item  of  expense  has  been  the  construction  of  the 
Canal  of  the  Durance,  which  cost  nearly  thirty-five  millions  and 
a  half;  but  the  sale  of  its  waters  gives  already  an  annual  profit 
of  four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs,  without  mentioning  the 
improvement  in  the  sanitary  condition  of  the  city,  and  the  gain 
from  the  laying  of  the  dust  in  the  streets,  and  the  general  im- 
provement of  the  neighboring  country.     The  expenses  for  the 
construction  of  the  harbors  have  been  shared  by  the  city,  the 
department,  and  the  state.     The  city  will  be  the  first  to  realize 
the  benefit.     The  building  of  the  cathedral  will  be  expensive. 
How  much?    No  one  can  tell.     The  estimate  for  the  founda- 
tions is  about  one  million  three  hundred  thousand  francs.     But 
then  the  Bishop  of  Marseilles  can  no  longer  officiate  in  a  village 
church.     The  state  has  appropriated  two  millions  and  a  half  to 
this  object:  the  city  will  furnish  four,  one  to  come  from  the  rev- 
enue, three  from  the  sale  of  the  lands  at  La  Joliette.     The  city 
hall  will  cost  four  millions ;  but  this  the  department  pays  for. 
The  Exchange  is  to  cost  six  and  a  half  millions,  but  the  chamber 
of  commerce  assumes  nearly  the  whole  of  the  expense.     The 
city  is  to  furnish  a  subsidy  of  six  hundred  thousand  francs,  pay- 
able in  ten  years.     Why,  it  has  granted  no  more  than  the  dirt 
from  the  streets! 

The  construction  of  an  imperial  residence  has  been  begun 
south  of  the  old  harbor,  on  the  square  of  La  Reserve,  near  that 
village  of  the  Catalans  whom  Monte  Christo  has  rendered  cele- 
brated.    For  a  long  time  past,  this  village  has  been  but  a  mere 
name.     This  republic  of  fishermen,  who  have  all  come  from 
abroad,  talks  about  emigrating.     Is  it  because  of  the  conscrip- 
tion for  the  navy  ?    Is  it  because  the  fishes  have  left  our  shores? 
I  can  not  say.     But  tlieir  little  port  looks  always  deserted,  and 
their  whitewashed  cabins  are  nearly  empty.     In  that  solitude 
the  guttural  sound  of  a  Spanish  word  is  rarely  heard.     One 
must  wander  a  long  time  among  its  ruins  before  coming  across  a 
bronze-visaged  old  woman  at  a  threshold,  picking  over  the  head 
of  her  grand-child. 

2* 


W'^it  V  f^(A*« 


34 


ROME    OP   TO-DAY. 


The  Marseillaise  spend  their  revenue  hke  sensible  people,  per- 
haps not  very  artistically.     As  men  of  spirit  I  stand  ready  to 
award  them  every  degree  of  praise  justly  their  due;  but  in  the 
matter  of  art  I  should  not  go  to  them  for  instruction.     The  ap- 
preciation of  the  beautiful  is  the  result  of  education  rather  than 
a  gift  of  nature,  and  the  Marseillaise  have  not  yet  directed  their 
attention  that  way.     They  lack  that  traditionary  love  of  art 
which  is  preserv(.'d  in  certain  cities  of  France,  as  Lisle,  Valen- 
ciennes, Dijon,  Grenoble,  and  Lyons ;  I  will  include  even  I^or- 
deaux. .  The  new  edifices  of  Marseilles  can  hardly  be  considered 
models  of  architecture ;  yon  can  find  them  of  equally  pure  style 
at  Washington  or  Cincinnati.     In  front  of  the  new  Exchanije 
which  is  conspicuously  ugly,  you  can  see  an  executioner  show- 
ing to  the  people  a  freshly  decapitated  head.     It  is  (he  statue  of 
Puget,  sculptured  by  M.  Pianius,  and  presented  to  the  city  by  a 
grand  seigneur  of  Jerusalem.    The  museum  has  some  good  paint- 
ings, but  they  are  neither  well  arranged,  Well  lighted,  nor  well 
cared  for.     It  is  for  this  cause  that  I  complain  of  the  municipal 
council  of  Marseilles.     It  is  too  bad  that  of  the  two  picture  gal- 
leries, the  first  is  badly  lighted,  the  second  is  not  lighted  at  all. 
One  regrets  to  see  enthroned  in  the  place  of  lionor  five  or  six 
daubs  of   the  modern  school,  while  the  Mercury  of  Ilaphael, 
painted  in  the  Famesine  style  by  M.  Ingnes,  is  hung  just  )mder 
the  ceiling,  in  the  dfirkest  corner  of  a  gloomy  room.     Finally, 
those  who  have  been  employed  to  restore  them  are  almost  as 
unscrupulous  as  our  Parisian  vandals. 

Do  you  know  what  municipal  privilege  is  most  highly  prized 
in  the  provinces?  that  on  which  they  j>ride  themselves  the  most? 
that  which  they  defend  with  the  most  obstinacv  atrainst  the  en- 
croachments  of  the  capital  ?  I  will  tell  you.  It  is  the  right  to 
tear  down  a  handsome  edifice  for  the  sake  of  building  an  ugly 
one.  To  choose  a  bad  statue  out  of  ten  good  ones.  To  make 
night  and  day  in  a  museum.  To  appoint  a  piofessor  of  drawing 
who  does  not  know  how  to  draw.  This  ambition  is  by  no 
means  peculiarly  French ;  the  same  thing  can  be  observed  at 
leisure  throughout  civilized  Euro{)e,  and  it  has  been  contnbuting 
for  a  number  of  years  to  the  decline  of  art  which  we  now  wit- 
ness. In  every  city  of  ten  thoui^and  souls  the  princii»al  men 
unanimously  declare,  "  We  have  the  right  to  spend  our  money  as 
we  please  in  patronizing  art     No  human  power  shall  prevent 


THE  JOURNEY. 


35 


US  from  sailing  our  ships  broadside  on,  provided  the  cargo  belongs 
to  us." 

A  Bavarian  who  was  living  at  Rome  told  me  the  following 
anecdote.  I  will  give  you  the  whole  of  it,  although  it  has  little 
to  do  with  Italy,  or  even  Marseilles,  but  simply  because  it 
touches  a  question  that  interests  educated  men  of  every  coun- 
try.    List^-n  attentively,  for  it  is  the  Bavarian  who  speaks : 

"  I  was  born  at  Niguenau,  a  city  of  twelve  thousand  inhabi- 
tants, situated  sixty  miles  from  Munich,  and  the  chief  city  of 
that  province.      My  fellow-citizens  were  all  in  good  circum- 
stances, having  acquired  fortunes  by  manufacturing  cotton  stuffs 
and  porcelain   dolls.     Their  chief  pleasure  consisted  in  eating 
sausages  and  drinking  the  beer  of  the  country,  which  is  really 
excellent:  they  know  nothing  better  or  more  worthy  of  a  man's 
ambition  than  to  drink  beer  and  eat  sausages.     Nevertheless  as 
the  study  of  art  has  been  rather  fashionable  in  Bavaria  for  a 
number  of  years  past,  and  as  everybody's  attention  was  directed 
to  it  in  Munich,  the  most  respectable  citizens  of  Niguenau,  in 
order  to  maintain  their  rank  in  the  kingdom  of  art,  appropriated 
yearly  some  thousands  of  florins  for  its  encouragement.     They 
employed  a  sworn  architect,  who  was  charged  with  the  repairs 
of  tlie  public  buildings,  and  to   repaint  them   red.     They  had 
a  museum,   whose   contents   were  picked    up  by  chance,  but 
chance  is  sometimes  lucky.    Finally,  they  supported,  in  one' way 
and  another,  a  professor  of  painting.     In  conformity  with  the 
municipal  axiom,  'Give  none  of  the  money  of  the  commune  to  a 
stranger,'  the  professor,  the  superintendent,  and  the  architect 
were  all  natives  of  the  province.     These  three  persons  depended 
for  tlieir  living  upon  tlie  burgomaster,  and  consequently  looked 
to  him  alone.     It  happened,  however,  that  the  burgomaster  was 
a  most  excellent  man,  a  skillful  physician,  and  one  of  the  most 
inteUigent  individuals  in  Niguenau,  but  in  matters  of  art  a  perfect 
ass.    Consequently  he  was  all  the  more  jealous  of  his  prerogative, 
and  arguments  relating  to  art  were  the  only  ones  to  which  he 
wouM  not  listen. 

**  The  administrator  of  the  province  (he  would  b-j  called  pre- 
fect in  France)  was  a  connoisseur  whose  taste  had  been  refined 
by  travel,  life  at  Munich,  and  his  intercourse  with  great  artists. 
For  this  reason  tliey  were  careful  not  to  consult  with  him.  Fi- 
nally, when  he  obligingly  ventured  to  give  a  little  good  advice, 


36 


KOME    OP   TO-DAY. 


the  burgomaster  wrapped  himself  up  in  his  official  conceit,  and 
replied  in  terms  of  most  studied  impertinence,  *  Monsieur,  the 
Prefect,  no  doubt  knows  more  tlian  we  do,  and  we  are  persons 
liable  to  be  deceived,  but  Niguenau  is  rich  enough  to  pay  for  our 
blunders,  and  I  can  assure  you  it  shall  not  cost  the  government 
one  kreutzer.' 

"  When  the  question  arose  as  to  rebuilding  the  city  hall,  which 
had  almost  tumbled  down  in  ruins,  the  burgomaster  and  his  archi- ' 
tect  devised  a  kind  of  diminutive  Grecian  temple,  surmounted 
with  a  gothic  bell-tower,  and  surrounded  by  a  balcony  in  the 
Swiss  style.  The  prefect  accidentally  saw  the  plans  of  this  hy- 
brid edifice,  and  could  not  supress  his  surprise.  With  the  utmost 
suavity  he  was  answered,  '  The  city  pays  for  it'  About  the 
same  time  the  superintendent  of  the  museum,  who  had  never 
touched  a  pencil  in  his  life,  stepped  in  front  of  a  painting  by 
Perugino.  We  have  only  one,  but  that  is  the  gem  of  the  col- 
lection. That  animal  (excuse  me  for  not  using  a  more  respect- 
ful term)  took  it  into  his  head  that  the  painting  was  too  yellow, 
and  accordingly  set  to  work  scraping  it  with  some  instrument 
until  at  last  he  came  down  upon  the  wood.  Perceiving  that  he 
had  made  that  place  a  little  too  clear,  and  in  order  to  remedy  his 
clumsiness,  he  spread  over  the  whole  surface  he  had  thus  whit- 
ened a  coat  of  bitumen.  Then  remembering,  luckily,  that  the 
painting  originally  had  certain  portions  light  and  others  dark,  he 
fell  to  scratching  with  his  penknife  where  he  thought  there  should 
be  strong  liglits.  The  prefect  surprised  him  in  the  midst  of  his 
labors,  and  shouted  witli  anger.  His  first  impulse  was  to  kick 
hira  over,  but  finally  contented  himself  with  demanding  his  dis- 
charge. *You  will  excuse  us,' replied  the  burgomaster,  'but 
this  officer  is  of  our  appointment*  we  pav  him.' 

"The  professor  of  painting  in  the  school  of  the  commune  died 
about  this  time.  lie  never  knew  any  thing  in  his  life,  and  for 
twenty  years  had  taught  tlie  young  people  of  Niguenau  a  style 
of  painting  d  la  pommade,  to  the  admiration  of  their  relatives. 
The  prefect  persuaded  himself  that  this  lucky  event  was  likely  to 
preserve  tlie  taste  of  the  city.  lie  want»jd  to  call  from  Munich 
an  elderly  man,  who  was  talented,  a  favorite  at  the  exhibition, 
honored  by  several  rewards,  and  yet  sufficiently  modest  to  prefer 
an  established  position  in  the  provinces  to  the  precHrious  life  of 
t]w  capirnl.     P.iif  the  bnri:oma'^ter  Rud  his  councilors  had  another 


THE   JOURNEY. 


\       * 


<  f 


37 


candidate  m  view.     This  was  a  young  man,  a  native  of  the 
place,  who  had  distinguished  himself  by  some  happy  efforts  at 
the  age  of  twelve.     He  had  been  sent  to  Munich  with  an  income 
of  three  hundred  florins,  in  the  hope  that  he  could  gain  the  Ro- 
man  prize,  and  thus  C(jnfer   luster   on  the  city  of  Niguenau 
He  had  done  as  well  as  he  could,  considering  his  age  of  thirteen 
years,  and  yet  had  not  gained  even  a  second  prize.     The  reason 
was,  not  that  he  painted  in  the  pomatum  style,  but  that  he  sketch- 
ed his  pictures  with  the  point  of  a  nail.     He  was  unanimously 
elected  by  the  city  council,  and  the  burgomaster,  as  in  duty 
bound,  mformed  the  prefect.      'Your  lordship,'  he.  said,   'will 
appreciate  tlie  sentiments  which  have  inspired  us.     We  alone 
have  carved  out  for  this  young  man  a  pathway  in  the  realm  of 
art,  by  fin-nishing  him  with  the  means  to  study.     As  he  has  not 
succeeded,  it  becomes  our  duty  to  furnish  for  him  the  means  of 
subsistence.'     'But  why,' answered  the  prefect,   'because   tliis 
young  man  has  proved  his  want  of  cap.-icity  at  Munich,  do  you  give 
him  a  place  which  should  be  filled  by  a  competent  person  ?   You 
can  not  be  aware  of  the  evil  an  incompetent  professor  of  draw- 
mg  can  do  in  a  country,  and  what  a  deplorable  influence  he  can 
exercise  upon  the  public  taste.'     '  We  alone  run  the  risk,'  re- 
plied the  burgomaster;  '  besides,  it  is  we  who  pay  him.'     Mor- 
bleu  !  lijis  a  man  the  right  to  poison  his  children  under  the  simple 
pretext  that  he  has  paid  for  the  poison  ? 

"These  three  ignoramuses— the  architect,  the  superintendent 
an.l  the  professor— had  just  gained  this  triumph  over  the  prefect' 
when  the  King  happened  to  be  traveling  in  that  direction  and 
stopped  at  the  city.  You  very  well  know  how  gentle  the  dis- 
position  of  tlie  King  was,  butjfelso  that  he  was  a  devoted  admirer 
of  art,  and  decided  when  a^question  of  taste  was  concerned. 
He  called  the  burgomaster  and  his  councillors  to  his  hotel  and 
addressed  them  as  follows  :  ' 

" '  My  good  citizens,  you  imagine  that  you  have  a  right  to  build 
hideous  buildings,  ruin  the  pictures  in  your  gallery,  and  deprave 
the  taste  of  your  children,  because  your  master  of  drawin<r,  the 
supermten.lent  of  your  museum,  and  the  architect  of  the  city  are 
paid  out  of  your  own  revenues.  This  mistake  exists  in  all  the 
chief  places  of  my  kingdom,  in  consequence  of  which  there  are 
not  ten  men  with  any  amount  of  good  taste  outside  of  Munich 
It  IS  high  time  to  remedy  this  error.     Henceforth  I  wish  all  thJ 


VJJtjftt 


38 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


public  edifices  to  be  designed  by  my  o\v\\  architects,  that  all  the 
superintendents  of  the  museums  gain  first  an  ostabHshed  repu- 
tation at  the  capital,  (md  tliat  all  the  professors  of  painting  be 
appointed  by  my  micister,  as  the  professors  of  Greek  and  Latin 
in  the  royal  colleges  are  chosen.  You  may  raise  the  objection 
that  these  gentlemen  are  appointed  l)y  you  because  their  ex- 
penses are  paid  by  you  ;  so  says  the  law.  But  the  law  also  says 
that  when  an  officer  is  paid  by  tlie  state,  or  a  city,  the  right  to 
make  the  appointment  rcj^ts  with  the  government.  For  this 
reason,  from  this  day  fortli,  I  shall  appropriate  one  fiorin  a  year 
for  tlie  support  of  the  architecf,  tlie  superintendent  of  tlie  gal- 
lery, and  the  professor  of  drawing  at  Niguenau,  and  they  shall 
be  appointed  by  me.' 

"  Since  this  act  of  regal  power,  there  has  been  a  city  hall  built 
at  Niguenau,  against  which  no  objections  can  be  raised,  the 
pupils  at  the  school  of  design  no  longer  turn  out  daubs,  nor  make 
their  original  designs  with  nails,  and  the  museum  is  well  lighted, 
well  kept,  and  admirably  arranged  ;  under  each  picture  there 
has  been  painted  the  name  of  the  artist,  and  the  period  when  he 
lived.  The  gems  are  properly  hung  in  the  most  conspicuous 
places,  so  that  the  public  can  be  instructed  at  once  what  it  is 
their  duty  to  admire ;  and  if  the  collection  is  not  the  most  val- 
uable in  existence,  it  very  well  compares  with  the  one  at  Munich." 

The  translation  of  this  conversation  from  the  German  has 
taken  me  so  far  away  from  Mai'seilles,  that,  upon  my  word,  I  ana 
almost  tempted  not  to  go  back  to  it.  I  shall  liavc  done  very 
well,  however,  if  I  have  succeeded  in  these  few  pages  in  con- 
vincing you  of  what  it  took  me  ten  days  to  study  out.  I  have 
told  you  what  I  think  of  the  PhociMis,  both  good  and  bad,  and 
I  am  sure  you  will  agree  with  nj,  that  the  amount  of  good 
largely  preponderates.  Now,  if  you  please,  we  will  return  to 
Kome,  and  enter  it  on  foot.  If  I  had  concluded  to  go  in  the 
guise  of  a  pilgrim,  with  knapsack  on  my  back,  like  the  artists  of 
the  good  old  times,  I  should  have  had  all  the  more  landscapes  to 
describe  to  you,  and  adventures  at  the  little  country  inns  to 
relate.  But  I  left  in  a  steamer  of  the  Mess.ageries,  at  ten  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  promptly  to  the  minute,  and  debarked  at  Civita 
Vecchia,  thirty  hours  afterward,  without  having  been  the  least 
sea-sick.  That  is  all  the  history  I  can  give  of  my  sea  voyage. 
The  scenery  round  me  did  not  change  for  one  moment ;  every- 


TIIE   JOUEXET. 


39 


tSof  mv  "•     ''r^''"^'  '  ^^"^^  ^^""^  >--  the  por- 

nr.  t  f.^  ^'^^^^-\oynSors ;  but  then  I  could  say  nothing  but  in 
pra.se  of  them;  and  besides,  as  they  were  not  public  men  thefr 
aflan^  are  none  of  your  business.  There  was  one  of  them  how- 
ever,  whon.  I  recall  with  too  much  pleasure,  not  to  de^otea 
few  words  to  lum.  This  was  M.  de  Baillieneourt,  colonel  of  the 
40th  reg.n.ent  of  the  line,  one  of  the  most  ag  eeable  cTentr 
inanly,  chsmterested  men  I  ever  n.et  in  any  c^untn   '  ?  h  ^ 

^ay   lor  an   author  who  so  prides  Irlmself  on  his  philosophy 
I  udge!   I  know  as  well  as  you  that  man  was  not  iced  upln 
th.s  ear  h  for  the  sake  of  killing  his  fellow-men.     Energ/  eour- 
age,  and  intellect,  have  a  thousan<l  other  ways  of  findinc^fmnlov 
ment  more  useful  and  more  dignlQed.     I  slfall  not  enrerTn  7a 
discussion  on  that  score.     But  I  love  soldiers  for  all  that  and  the 
reason  is  beyond  my  comprehension.     I  love  them  for  thdr' old 
qualities  and  their  faults,  their  intelligence  and  theVr  itTrfn^ 
their  magnanimity  and  their  eccentricity,  but  e.peciallv  for  tW 
perpetual  youthful  feeling  which   distinguishe'C'^^^^^^^^^ 
f^om  the  rest  of  us.     W,,at  fascinates  nurses,  grisettes,  and  0^" 
t  mes  nne  ladies,  is  a  uniform.     What  attracts  me  i^  a  soMier 
no  ma   er  what  rank  he  may  hold,  is  the  strange,  honest  s^i^ 

tt^'Trr  ^""T"  ''  """-  ^'^^  ingenuousness  wl^eh 
IS  preser^  ed  under  a  uniform,  even  to  old  age.  My  distincnii.hed 
companion  on  that  voyage  is  still  young.  I  think  he  gr« 
from  the  school  of  St  Cyr  at  the  same^time  with  Marfl  Can 
robert.  And  yet  he  is  an  old  soldier.  He  adored  the  ^my  as 
mir  common  country,  his  regiment  as  liis  family,  and  his  flT^  L 

inonT  '  ".  t ""'  ''  '''  '•^^'^-^'^-     T^-  ^^^  or  a  numbe" 
upon  a  coat-button  made  liis  heart  beat  with  emotion      When 

Te  oT  h    If  n  ''"''^'  ''  '''''-'  with  joyT ^e^og^i;:; 
one  ot  tlie  men  of  liis  own  regiment      TTo  t^i.i  ™      *  a 
timo  crnnn„  o.    1  •       >  •         "^r-'"'<-nt.     lid  tolU  mi',  at  the  Siime 
time  gen  ly  strokmg  l„s  moustache  to  subdue  his  feelin--  "to- 
morrow they  are  to  bring  me  my  eolors,  with  the  fuU  hind  t 

ot  the  world  had  procured  a  leave  of  absence  for  a  montj,  for 

ive"  :4rr'^",''^  '^'""^'  '™"'  ^''°'"  '>^  '--l  "-"  "tn 
several  jeais.     On  h,s  return  to  his  regiment,  at  the  exniration 

At  Cmu  Veechia  I  took  the  mail  carriage,  like  a  man  of 


1^^ 


^^^^i^^ 


40 


ROME    OF   TO-DAY. 


means.  It  costs  two  or  three  francs  less  to  travel  by  it  than  iho 
diligence — if  a  man  knows  how  to  manage — and  transports  you 
much  more  quickly.  I  firmly  believe — may  God  pardon  me  for 
the  assertion — that  we  made  the  journey  in  seven  hours.  My 
four  horses  thundered  over  the  streets  of  the  Eternal  City,  with 
an  amazing  jingle  of  bells,  and  deposited  me  in  the  Place  d'Es- 
pagne,  where  I  took  leave  of  them.  I  was  at  home :  at  least  I 
had  but  two  or  three  hundred  steps  to  mount. 


II. 


Mr      INN 


QHARLLMAG^E  was  loJfred  in  the  palace  of  the  Caesars 
^  upon  Mount  Palatine.  This  imperial  hostelry,  whichTh" 
barbanans  respected  until  .800,  is  no  longer  inl,abLd.     There 

rr-^s:  ir-'  -''--  -- '-  -'^  -^^  ^-^^-^^^ 

ti^tT7!^^^r""^""'■ ''"  "''"^"' '"'  '""'"P'"^  '••^'^''P'"^--'.  dwelt  at 
the  end  of   he  Corso  m  the  great  Venetian  palace,  so  u-^Iy  and 

Montaigne  was  encamped  at  the  Hotel  de  I'Our^ ;  pedants  are 
no  longer  encountered  there,  but  plenty  of  drivers. 

Our  divine  Kabelais,  lodged  at  the  same  sign,  but  they  came 
very  near  g,vi„g  him  the  finest  apartment  of  theVortre^  o'^&rn 
Angelo  for  no  hn.g.    The  father  of  French  wit  would  have  been 
well  situated  there  to  ratiocinate  at  leisure  upon  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  island  of  Sonnante  ^ 

TrSr'^T-^rl"  "''"  ""^  ^'''  '°  ^™°'  °^  ">e  Church  of  the 
Tnmtu  del  Monti  two  steps  from  the  beautiful  fresco  of  Daniel 
de  \olterre,  which  he  held  at  so  high  a  price,  and  which  Xe 
French  government  once  thought  to  place  in  the  Louvre 

and  uhen  he  showed  such  strange  figures  on  his  carria-^e-door 

elfa!",/    /'"'?  i^'"""^'-    ^'-  "^  Chateaubriand  ke^pt  IZ'. 
Bclf  at  the  French  Embassy,  anj  Mad.  de  Stael  in  the  clouds 
I,  poor  devU,  am  better  lodged  than  so  many  illustrious  French- 

I  have  just  counted  again  the  steps  which  raise  me  above  the 


-  ;■■•  ■•^T^^'^; 


42 


EOME   OF  TO-DAY. 


Place  d'Espagno,  where  the  strangers  have  their  rcnJezvoua. 
They  rmmber  three  hundred  and  twenty-seven ;  not  one  more 
or  less.  A  hundred  and  thirty-five  carry  you  to  the  level  of  the 
Academy  of  France,  add  seventy-seven  to  the  soil  of  the  garden, 
for  the  garden  is  in  the  second  story,  like  the  palace  of  Semira- 
mis.  Finally  you  will,  with  great  effort,  mount  still  one  hun- 
dred and  fifteen  steps,  before  entering  into  the  Turkish  chamber, 
which  is  mine. 

You  can  not  miss  the  door — we  are  at  the  top  of  this  winding 
stair,  on  the  summit  of  the  right  bell-turret.  The  only  Imlgers 
above  me,  from  time  to  time,  are  the  crows  perched  upon  the 
roof  An  iron  crescent  traced  above  my  lock,  announces  to  you 
that  you  will  enter  into  Turkey,  and  that  this  (porte)  door  is 
gi'eat-grand  cousin  of  the  Sublime  Porte. 

An  II  and  a  V,  designed  upon  the  key,  indicate  to  you  that  it 
■was  made  for  M.  Horace  Vernet. 

For  my  inn  also  has  sheltered  illustrious  guests.  It  is  the 
ancient  Villa  of  the  Medicis.  Galileo  was  detained  here,  if  tradi- 
tion be  true.  The  prison  of  the  great  astronomer  is  a  beautiful 
and  marvelously  situated  chamber.  I  wish  that  every  martyr 
for  truth  may  have  a  like  dungeon. 

It  was  in  1803  that  the  French  Academy,  founded  by  the 
munificence  of  Louis  XIV.,  was  transported  away  from  the 
tunmlt  of  the  streets  to  the  Villa  of  the  Medicis.  Since  the 
removal,  almost  all  the  great  artists  of  our  country  have  lived  in 
this  palace  and  dreamed  under  its  fine  trees.  David,  Pradier, 
Delaroche,  ^I.  Ingres,  and  M.  Vernet  have  written  their  names 
upon  its  walls. 

The  first  aspect  of  tlie  palace  is  grand  and  majestic,  but  with- 
out many  ornaments.  From  a  distance  the  arms  and  fiag  of 
France  may  be  recognized  above  the  door.  The  only  luxury  of 
the  entrance  consists  in  an  avenue  of  evergreens  and  a  jet  of 
water  falling  into  a  large  vase.  You  pass  between  the  door 
posts  of  antique  marble,  very  rare  and  very  beautiful,  but  very 
modest ;  they  are  not  there  for  less  than  six  thousand  francs. 

The  porter  is  in  appearance  one  of  the  finest  types  of  the 
Roman  race  ;  txW,  large,  well-made,  full-faced,  a  fan-shaped 
beard,  he  carries  with  dignity  the  cane  of  the  tambour-raajora 
and  the  Swiss  of  the  establishment.  lie  is  an  important  man  ; 
he  has  his  servants ;  his  son  kisses  his  hands  every  time  that  ho 


MY  INX. 


43 


enters  or  goes  out.  F(5te-days,  when  he  is  in  fall  livery  at  the 
doorway  of  the  Academy,  the  idlers  form  an  admirin^r  circle 
around  lum.  Ho  allows  them  to  come,  but  by  squads,  to  avoid 
confusion.  Every  five  minutes  he  gently  motions  thim  away 
with  us  cane,  saying  to  them  in  a  paternal  tone,  "Enough  •  vou 
have  had  your  look— let  the  others  come  !"  ° 

The  fir.t  story  is  occupied  by  the  large  and  ma-nificent  recep- 
tion rooms,  adorned  with  the  finc^.t  specimens  of  Gobelin  tapestry 
and  in  all  pouits  worthy  of  the  grandeur  of  Fi-anct^.     Continuous 
and  dependent  upon  it  is  an  admirable  vestibule,  adorned  with 
antique  columns  and  statues  modelod  after  the  antique     But  the 
greatest  affectation  of  the  house   is  the  back  fi-ont       It  ranks 
among  the  chef  d'oeuvres  of  the  Renaissance.     One  would  say 
that  the  architect  had  exhausted  a  mine  of  Greek  and  Roman 
bas-rehefs  to  adorn  liis  palace.      The   garden  is  of  the  same 
epoch ;  It  dates  from  the  time  when  the  Roman  aristocracy  pro- 
fessed the  most  profound  contempt  for  flowers.     Nothin-  is  seen 
but  groups  of  verdure,  laid  out  with  scrupulous  care,     slx  -reen 
swards  surrounded  with  hedges  breast-high,  spread  out  b'efore 
the  \,lla,  and  allow  the  sight  to  extend  even  to  Mount  Soracte 
which  shuts  in  the  horizon.     To  the  left,  four  times  four  squares 
of  grass  plot  are  enclosed  within  high  walls  of  laurel,  gigantic 
box  and  evergreens.     The  walls  meet  again  over  the  alleys  and 
envelop  them  m  a  fresh  and  mysterious  ^lade.     To  the  ri^ht  a 
terrace  of  a  noble  style  encloses  a  wood  of  evergreens,  splft  ai'id 
twisted  by  time.     I  sometimes  go  there  to  work  in  the  shade 
and  the  blackbird  rivals  the  nightingale  above  my  head,  as  a  fine 
village  singer  might  compete  with  Mario  or  Roger.     A  little 
furtlier,  a  rustic  vineyard  extends  quite  to  the  Pincian  gate 
where  Bclisarius  is  said  to  have  begged.     At  any  rate,  a  stone  is 
there  to  be  seen,  adorned  with  this  celebrated  inscription-/>a^^ 
obohan  Belisario.   The  gardens  both  small  and  great,  are  sprinkled 
with  statues,  with  Mercuries,  and  marbles  of  all  kinds.     The 
water  fiows  into  antique  siircophagi  or  gushes  out  from  vases  of 
marble.     .Marble  and  water  are  the  two  luxuries  of  Rome->we 
know  them  only  by  reputation  in  Paris. 

Tliis  fine  property  of  France  has  in  the  rear,  throughout  its 
whole  length,  the  ramparts  of  the  city.  It  is  bounded  on  one 
side  by  the  promenade  of  the  Pincio,  on  the  other  by  the  French 


44 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


Convent  of  the  Trinity.  As  it  overlooks  all  Rome,  it  takes  it  in 
with  a  single  glance  of  the  eye. 

The  Academy  practices  hospitality  largely.  Its  gardens  are 
public ;  its  galleries  for  study,  and  its  sittings  for  models  are  ac- 
cessible to  the  young  artists  of  all  countries;  its  salons  are  open 
once  a  week  to  all  French  of  good  society ;  its  territory  is  an 
inviolable  asylum,  where  the  Roman  police  has  not  the  right  to 
pursue  an  accused  person. 

The  artists  who  by  competition  obtain  the  right  to  complete 
their  studies  there,  have  not  all  the  same  talent,  although  they 
have  obtained  the  same  prize.  If  each  of  them  returned  to 
France  in  the  state  of  a  man  of  genius,  France  would  not  know 
where  to  put  them,  and  this  excess  of  our  glory  would  cause  us 
great  embarrassment.  But  it  may  be  boldly  ailirmed  that  a  res- 
idence of  some  years  in  such  a  dwelling,  and  in  such  a  country, 
is  never  useless  for  the  development  of  a  man.  An  unpretend- 
ing life,  without  the  care  for  daily  bread  ;  the  strict  obligation  to 
labor,  joined  to  an  absolute  liberty  of  the  laborer ;  the  spectacle 
of  tlie  finest  scenery,  of  the  grandest  buildings,  and  the  most 
picturesque  inhabitants ;  the  neighborhood  of  tlie  richest  collec- 
tions ;  the  perpetual  contact  with  the  souvenii-s  of  a  past  more 
living  than  the  present — all  this  makes  the  Academy  the  healtlii- 
est  dwelling  in  the  world.  Necessarily  I  must  be  convinced  of 
this,  since  I  have  placed  myself  here  as  a  lodger. 

To  all  the  excellent  things  I  have  enumerated,  add  the  pen- 
etrating calmness  which  emanates  from  the  Eternal  City — a  cer- 
tain spirit  of  peace  and  harmony,  of  steadiness  and  dignity — which 
insensibly  affect  the  most  troubled  mind.  In  this  inhabited  sol- 
itude, which  extends  from  St.  Peter's  to  St.  John  of  Latran,  the 
souvenirs  of  miUtary  life  appear  as  distant  to  us  as  the  dreams  of 
a  stormy  night  He  who  beholds  the  agitation  of  Paris  without 
mingling  in  it,  perceiVes  the  same  astonishment,  the  same  uneasi- 
ness, and  the  same  disdain  as  when  he  sees  a  whirling  carnival- 
ball,  without  hearing  the  violins. 

The  blustering  journals  which  deafen  the  Parisians  do  not  get 
to  Rome ;  the  most  celebrated  loafers  and  the  most  distinguished 
artists  are  not  even  known ;  the  patois  of  the  petty  press  will  not 
be  comprehended.  One  works  at  his  ease,  and  without  excite- 
ment, in  honest  meditation,  without  suspicion  of  what  may  be 


MY  IXN. 


45 


said,  without  regard  to  the  passing  caprices  of  the  public,  with 
the  eyes  turned  alternately  to  nature  and  to  the  great  masters. 

Rome  is,  after  Athens,  perhaps  the  city  of  the  world  where 
one  is  least  amused.  Still  the  young  people  themselves  avow 
that  there  is  nothing  more  attractive.  The  first  experience  of 
the  pensioners  of  the  Academy  is  to  become  ennuyte,  as  at  a 
task,  and  to  count  the  days  of  exile  that  separate  them  from 
Paris;  they  all  depart  with  regret,  or  rather  are  torn  away. 

It  may  be  said  of  Rome  what  a  critic  said  of  the  greatest  poet 
of  anticjuity,  C  est  avoir  profile  que  de  savoir  sy  plaire.  The  ele- 
vated pleasure  which  a  great  city  gives,  is  not  enjoyed  at  the  end 
of  eight  days.  A  copy  of  the  Guid^  Joanne  was  shown  me,  en- 
riched with  manuscript  notes  by  a  drumming  clerk.  This  fine 
bird  of  passage  had  written  on  the  margin  at  the  article  on  St. 
Peter's  at  Rome,  ''  I  have  seen  better  than  that."  I  do  not  know 
precisely  where  he  could  have  seen  better,  but  I  excuse  these 
blunders  in  an  eight  days'  traveler. 

The  Pope  Grregory  XVI.,  who  was  a  spiritual  old  man,  vi'iX- 
liogly  f?ave  audience  to  strangers. ,  He  regularly  inquired  how 
long  a  time  they  had  been  in  Rome.  When  they  answered  *'  for 
three  weeks,"  he  smiled  shrewdly,  and  said,  ^'  AUonsf  Adieu  T 
But  if  the  traveler  had  passed  three  or  four  months  in  the  city, 
the  holy  father  said  to  him,  ^'  Au  revoirT 

In  fact,  all  those  who  have  known  Rome  long  enough  to  enjoy 
it,  are  possessed  with  a  desire  to  return  there,  as  if  they  had  for- 
gotten something  oi'  themselves.  They  know  each  other,  or  at 
least  they  recognize  each  other  after  ten  minutes'  conversation. 
They  exchange  a  masonic  grip  of  the  hand,  as  men  who  have 
loved  the  same  person  at  some  years'  distance,  and  who  have 
been  equally  well  treated.  Finally,  they  rendezvous  on  tlie  Fo- 
rum, the  Vatican,  or  at  the  eternal  Plaza  d'Espagna. 

The  actual  director  of  the  Academy,  ^M.  Schnetz,  came  here 
for  the  first  time  in  1816,  nearly  half  a  century  ago.  He  made 
tlie  journey  on  foot,  following  the  excellent  example  of  artists 
of  that  time.  Since  the  day  of  his  arrival  he  has  not  quitted  the 
city  except  with  the  intention  to  return.  He  has  lived  here 
twenty-tour  years,  and  he  finds  it  short.  M.  Schnetz  is  seventy-, 
two  years  old,  but  he  would  not  be  suspected  of  more  than  six- 
ty; the  climate  of  Rome  is  as  favorable  to  painters  as  to  pictures. 
This  excellent  man  has  preserved  all  the  vigor  of  both  body  and 


46 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


mind ;  he  surveys  rapidly,  and  with  an  equally  assured  step,  the 
ruins  and  the  souvenirs  of  the  city.  No  Frenclimau  better  knows 
the  Romans,  or  is  better  known.  The  indigenous  nobility  look 
upon  him  as  belongin*^  to  them ;  he  has  the  same  train  as  tlie 
princes,  and  the  same  opinions  as  the  can.linal*i.  His  interiQr 
life,  eiccept  the  days  of  representation,  is  also  of  a  Roman  sim- 
plicity. I  breakfast  with  him,  and  I  dine  with  the  pensioners. 
The  only  difference  between  his  repast  and  that  ot  his  pupils,  is 
that  one  is  served  on  the  second  floor,  and  the  other  on  tho 
first. 

Perhaps  it  is  time  to  invite  you  to  enter  into  my  chamber.  It 
is  not  the  largest  in  the  house,  but  I  can  make  seven  steps 
in  it,  in  a  straight  line,  which  is  all  that  is  necessary  for  my 
work.  The  cupola  (I  have  a  cupola)  is  so  high  that  the  air 
never  fails  my  lungs.  M.  Horace  Vernet  had  it  painted  in 
oriential  style  from  designs  copied  in  Algeria.  Tradition  has  it 
that  the  birds  of  every  color  which  fly  over  the  luster  are 
from  the  hand  of  this  master.  If  this  be  true,  the  swal- 
low of  the  Cafe  Foy  would,  have  a  sister  here.  The  walls  are 
covered  with  a  porcelain  paint,  the  freshness  of  which  pleases 
me  exceedingly.  The  entrance  of  the  alcove  is  cut  out  d  la 
Mauresque,  between  two  great  bouquets  of  fantastic  flowers. 
There  are  Arabic  inscriptions  over  the  bed,  the  door,  and  the 
windows.  You  may  sleep  upon  the  carpet,  stretch  yourself 
out  upon  one  of  these  two  divans,  or  you  may  sit  down  in  the 
arm-chair,  but  do  not  touch  this  little  table ;  it  is  here  that  I 
make  my  prose,  in  front  of  Mount  Mario. 

I  can  not  say  why  I  am  attached  to  this  window  rather  than  to 
the  other;  it  is  probably  because  the  sun  comes  into  it  later. 
That  looks  nearly  to  the  south ;  this  almost  west.  I  see  the  six 
plots  of  the  Academy  in  their  frames  of  evergreen ;  the  Lincian 
comes  next ;  then  the  green  country,  the  yellow  Tiber,  and  a 
row  of  quite  low  hills.  Mount  Mario  is  covered  with  trees, 
which  my  traveling  drummer  might  oompare  to  umbrellas,  the 
pines  resembling  opened  umbrellas,  and  the  cypresses  closed  um- 
brellas. I  see,  to  the  right,  the  Villa  BorghOse,  and  to  the  left 
tlie  obelisk  in  the  Plaza  del  Populo.  To  sum  up,  very  little  of 
Rome,  and  not  enough  of  country.  Still,  when  the  sun  makes 
his  bed  in  the  black  clouds  marked  witli  great  red  spots,  I  regret 
that  all  my  friends  are  not  here  to  see  them  with  me. 


MY   INN. 


47 


When  I  place  myself  at  the  other  window,  I  see  four-fifths  of 
the  city.  I  couut  the  seven  hills,  I  run  over  the  regular  streets 
'Nvhich  extend  between  the  Corso  and  the  Piazza  d'Espagna ;  I 
numljcr  the  palaces,  the  churches,  the  domes,  and  the  towers ; 
I  lose  mvself  in  the  Ghetto  and  in  tlie  Trastevere.  I  do  not 
see  the  ruins  as  much  as  I  would  wish ;  they  are  collected  there, 
on  my  left,  in  the  environs  of  the  Forum.  Still  we  have  near 
us  the  column  of  Antonius  and  the  Mausoleum  of  Adrian.  The 
view  is  agreeably  closed  by  the  pines  of  the  Villa  Pamphilli, 
which  unite  their  large  parasols,  and  make,  as  it  were,  a  table 
with  a  thousand  feet,  for  the  repast  of  giants.  The  horizon 
extends  at  the  left  to  an  infinite  distance ;  the  plain  is  naked,  un- 
dulating, and  blue  as  the  sea.  But  if  you  place  yourself  in  the 
presence  of  so  extended  and  varied  a  spectacle,  a  single  object 
will  attract  your  regard,  one  alone  will  strike  your  attention ; 
you  will  have  eyes  only  for  St.  Peter's.  My  traveling  drummer 
had  seen  better.  I  defy  him  to  have  ever  seen  anything  so,  grand. 
From  the  greatest  distance  Rome  is  seen,  it  is  St.  Peter's  that 
outlines  the  horizon.  Its  dome  is  half  in  the  city  and  half  in  the 
heavens.  When  I  open  my  window,  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  I  see  Rome  bathed  in  a  feverish  mist ;  only  the  dome 
of  SL  Peter's  is  colored  by  tlie  rosy  light  of  the  rising  sun.  I 
remember  that,  one  day,  in  going  from  Syria  to  Malta,  I  saw 
Sicily  at  a  distance  of  forty  leagues  ;  it  was  magnificent  weather, 
at  the  close  of  day.  At  least,  I  was  shown  a  large  and  liigh 
mountain,  which  seemed  to  liave  its  roots  in  the  sea.  It  was 
.Etna,  that  raises  itself  above  Sicily  as  St  Peter's  above  Rome. 
We  did  not  see  Sicily,  but  we  saw  ^tna. 

One  grand  fete  day  (it  was,  1  think,  during  holy  week)  I  met 
a  greatly  scandalized  man  in  front  of  St.  Peter's.  He  was  a 
worthy  Normand,  i)ea<*eful  by  nature  and  education,  and  an  old 
muuicipal  counselor  of  the  city  of  Avranches.  When  I  saw  him 
shrug  his  shoulders,  and  take  the  sun  to  witness,  I  could  not 
refrain  from  saying,  "  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

*'  What  the  matter?  for  two  hours  and  more,  torrents  of  people 
have  entered  the  church,  and  still  there  is  no  crowd  in  it.  The 
building  is  too  large.  These  peoj^le  have  not  good  taste,  and 
they  exaggerate  every  thing." 

"  Alas  I  sir,"  I  answered  him,  "  what  say  you  of  the  parson- 
age ?     The  A'atican  is  but  a  dependency  of  the  churcli,  and  it 


ilit^'^isiBseitJS^ 


?^i^ 


SiSi*#;^i'3*%Fg^;Sfe3H^5S1ff5;Si^^ 


48 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


has  been  constructed  with  the  same  exafrpferation.  It  contains 
not  less  than  twelve  thousand  rooms,  thirty  courts,  and  three 
hundred  flij^hts  of  stairs." 

"  Absurd,  truly  I  It  is  like  that  church  which  they  have  taken 
me  to  see,  two  or  three  kilometres  from  here." 

"  St.  Paul's,  outside  the  walls  of  the  city  ?" 

"  Precisely.  It  is  nnich  too  large,  and  out  of  all  proportion 
to  the  necessities  of  the  location." 

"  I  believe  so  I  The  parish  is  composed  of  an  inn  and  two 
drinking-shops." 

"  We,  sir,  wlien  we  constructed  the  new  church  of  Avranches 
took  our  measures  so  well  that  there  was  not  a  mill  spent  use- 
lessly." 

"  I  compliment  you  upon  it.  But  it  may  be  said,  as  an  excuse 
for  the  Romans,  that  tlicy  have  constructed  St.  Peter*s  and  St. 
Paul's,  not  for  parish  churches,  like  that  of  Avranches,  but  as 
central  churches  for  the  whole  catholic  people." 

Fine  as  Rome  may  be,  such  as  I  see  it  from  my  w^indow,  I 
imagine  that  it  was  still  more  astonishing  three  hundred  years 
ago.  St.  Peter's  was  not  then  built,  nor  any  of  the  edifices 
which  we  most  admire ;  but  antiquity  was  living  and  flourish- 
ing, in  spite  of  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians  and  the  pillages 
of  Alaric.  According  to  statistics  of  the  sixteenth  century,  re- 
covered by  the  Cardinal  MaY,  and  cited  by  M.  Ampt're,  the 
great  city  then  enumerated  : 

Three  hundred  and  eighty  large  and  spacious  streets ;  forty- 
six  thousand  six  hundred  and  three  houses ;  seventeen  thou- 
sand and  ninety-seven  palaces  ;  thirteen  thousand  and  fiffy-two 
fountains; 'thirty-one  theaters;  eleven  amphitheaters ;  two  cap- 
itols ;  nine  thousand  and  twenty-five  baths ;  five  thousand  com- 
mon sewers ;  two  thousand  and  ninety-one  prisons ;  eight  large 
gilded  statues;  sixty-six  ivory  statues;  three  thousand  seven 
hundred  and  eighty-five  statues  in  bronze;  eighty-two  equestrian 
statues  in  bronze ;  two  colossi. 

If  any  think  tliese  figures  improbable,  they  do  not  know  the 
Romans — a  nation  excessive  in  everythinGr,  and  more  exac'o-er- 
ated  in  their  actions,  than  the  Greeks  themselves  in  their  words. 

There  are  days  when  I  look  from  my  two  windows,  and 
see  nothing  but  rain  and  clouds.  Bad  weather  is  worse  here  than 
anywhere  else  in  the  world.     When  the  wind  is  from  the  south- 


MY   INN. 


49 


west,  the  accursed  sirocco  begins  to  blow,  long  leaden  clouds  col- 
lect in  the  west,  and  men  and  animals  are  seized  with  a  peculiar 
discomfort.  Over  the  uniform  level  of  the  sea  and  the  land  the 
African  wind  rolls  tumultuously,  without  meeting  ahy  obstacles. 
Rome  is  the  first  resistance  which  it  encounters  upon  its  road. 
It  whirls  and  whistles  around  the  seven  hills,  and  one  would  think 
that  the  houses  were  shaken  by  its  concussion.  The  clouds  are 
heaped  one  upon  another,  like  mountains  piled  up  by  a  Titan,  to 
the  summit  of  the  vault  of  heaven.  Soon  they  form  but  one  com- 
pact mass,  by  which  daylight  is  obscured.  Then  everything  bursts, 
and  thick,  uniform,  exhaustless  torrents  descend  blusteringly 
upon  tlie  city.  The  wind  always  blows,  brings  up  new  clouds, 
and  fills  up  the  reservoirs  of  the  skies  before  they  are  exhausted! 
Thunder  sometimes  has  a  part  in  it,  and  water,  winds,  lightnings, 
the  shocks  which  cause  my  chamber  to  tremble,  make  "for  me  a 
finished  picture  of  a  ship  beaten  by  the  tempest. 

The  storm  also  sometimes  threatens,  passes  and  disappears 
witliout  leaving  any  trace,  like  a  sovereign  who  is  awaited  in  a 
city,  but  who  only  stops  to  change  horses. 

Some  one  knocks  at  the  door  of  my  observatory :  it  is  a  visit 
for  me.  The  visitor  is  a  man  of  good  sense,  although  he  is  not 
exempt  from  certain  aristocratic  prejudices.  He  installs  himself, 
makes  cigarettes  of  Turkish  tobacco,  and  smokes  a  full  half  hour 
without  ceasing  to  talk.  His  conversation  gives  me  pleasure 
and  fear  at  the  same  time.  He  offers  to  teach  me  all  he  knows 
about  Italy,  but  then  he  defies  me  to  write  a  book  which  has 
common-sense. 

"If  you  would  trust  to  me,"  he  says,  "you  will  devote  three 
or  four  months  to  the  study  of  Rome,  without  regarding  either 
its  paintings,  statues,  ruins,  or  anything  that  strangers  come 
here  to  see.  You  assuredly  have  not  the  intention  to  repeat 
that  which  all  the  travelers  have  written :  furthermore,  the  Italy 
of  to-day  has  nothing  in  common  with  antiquity,  the  middle 
ages,  or  the  Renaissance.  Devote  yourself  to  the  examina- 
tion of  tlie  institutions,  the  manners  and  characteristics,— it 
will  occupy  you  a  long  time  if  you  seek  the  truth.  Tiy  to  see 
all  for  yourself — count  not  upon  the  French  nor  upon  the 
Italians  to  inform  you.  The  French  observe  httle,  and  the  divi- 
sion of  occupation— to  which  I  have  the  honor  to  belong— is  not 
composed  of  philosophers.     We  will  tell  you  much  good  and 


^q*     I  fcrk.^  J  A*  «iiMb^MUIhi 


'^a^^i 


50 


ROME    OF   TO-DAY. 


much  ill  of  the  Italians,  accordinp^  to  the  house  where  each  mny 
be  lodged.  We  will  also  tell  you  some  foolish  things.  One  of  our 
Foldiers  speaking  to  an  Italian,  and  furious  at  not  being  under- 
stood, cried  out,  shaking  his  list,  'What?  stupid  1  We  have 
been  here  nine  years  and  you  do  not  yet  understand  French.' 
Every  now  and  then  we  fall  into  the  reasoning  of  this  soldier. 
Speak  with  Itidians,  and  in  tlieir  tongue,  when  they  can  not 
express  themselves  in  yours.  The  Roman  nobiiity,  conmiencing 
with  the  Holy  Father  and  the  Cardinal  Antonelli,  know  French 
almost  as  well  as  you.  Slill  the  uneducated  Italian  is  not 
entirely  himself  when  he  does  not  speak  Italian.  Furthermore, 
why  should  you  deprive  yourself  of  tlie  pleasure  of  hearing  this 
beautiful,  harmonious  language  ?  To  come  to  Italy  to  converse 
in  French,  is  hke  going  to  the  opera  without  hearing  the  music. 
Go  on  foot  in  tlie  streets  and  try  to  never  know  your  way ;  luck 
will  conduct  you  into  good  places.  If  you  enter  a  church,  do 
not  regard  only  what  is  there ;  observe  also  what  is  said  and 
what  is  done  there.  Engage  in  conversation  with  every  one  you 
meet.  You  are  not  in  England ;  do  not  wait  for  some  one  to 
introduce  you  to  a  mason  to  question  him  ;  he  will  answer — I 
will  not  promise  you  that  he  will  tell  you  the  truth,  neither  he 
nor  any  one.  All  the  Italians,  rich  and  poor,  are  by  nature  sus- 
picious, for  they  have  almost  always  been  duped.  You  will 
have  a  good  deal  of  trouble  in  drawing  a  yes  or  no  from  your 
interlocutors.  Do  not  be  discouraged  if  you  are  closely  watched, 
and  if  an  evasive  answer  is  made  when  you  ask  what  o'clock 
it  is. 

*'  Roiuan  society  is  divided  into  three  classes — the  nobility,  the 
]^lebeians,  and  the  middle  class,  which  fluctuates  between  the 
two.  The  nobility  is  hospitable,  and  will  receive  you  if  you  de- 
sire; but  there  is  little  to  be  said  of  it.  The  princes  of  the 
Ciuirch  and  tlie  Roman  princes  long  ago  put  an  end  to  it  by  ne- 
polisiii  and  cicisbeism.  The  Cardinals  are  poor,  and  the  fine 
ladies  go  about  without  lovers. 

"  The  plebeians  are  more  curious  to  observe,  but  tliey  are 
known  already  by  the  works  of  the  artists,  who  have  met  with 
the  most  picturesque  manners  in  seeking  the  picturesque  in  fig- 
ures and  costumes. 

"  Wliat  is  still  more  interesting  and  the  least  known,  is  the 
middle  class.     It  is  very  extensive ;  it  includes  all  that  which  is 


MY  INN. 


51 


neither  noble  nor  mendicant,  from  the  most  unpretending  mrr- 
cliants  of  the  Corso  even  to  the  ancient  ministers  of  1848.  All 
the  lawyers,  all  the  doctors,  all  the  employees,  and  the  minister 
himself,  when  he  happens  not  to  belong  to  the  prelacy,  ujake  a 
part  of  this  intermediate  world,  which  comes  into  no  contact  with 
thnt  of  the  great.  It  is  the  middle  class  that  progresses,  works 
t*x«Mtes,  and  threatens.  It  made  the  revolution  of  1849;  it  can 
do  better,  it  may  do  worse.  There  is  much  to  fear  and  much  to 
hope  from  that  sort  of  people.  Where  do  you  meet  them  ? 
They  live  by  themselves.  Many  of  them  pass  half  the  year  in 
the  fields.  They  are  called  country  merchants ;  they  cultivate 
the  lands  of  the  nobility,  pay  enormous  rents,  yet  grow  rich 
without  seeming  so.  I  have  been  assured  that  many  of  them  are 
intelligent  and  upright,  but  I  doubt  whether  their  company  suits 
you,  since  you  can  have  but  few  ideas  in  common.  Supposing 
that  the  great  people  should  permit  you  to  frequent  their  society ; 
siipi)Osing  that  this  middle  class  consents  to  receive  you,  it  will 
be  more  than  difficult  to  go  with  both  at  once.  They  do  nothing 
in  the  same  style,  nor  at  the  same  hours. 

"  Nevertheless,  granting  that  you  have  the  patience,  the  tnlcnt, 
and  the  good  fortune  requisite  to  fathom  Roman  society,  it  will 
be  but  a  step  forward.  Rome  is  an  exceptional  city,  that  resem- 
bles no  other.  Neither  Italy,  nor  the  Roman  States  even,  should 
be  judged  by  it  It  is  a  magnificent  sample,  but  the  piece  is  of 
quite  another  stuff." 

*•  No  matter,"  replied  I.  "  Let  us  begin  by  knowing  Rome. 
It  seems  to  me,  tliat  if  I  come  out  here  with  credit,  the  rest  will 
go  of  itself,  and  cost  me  httle  effort" 


KHfimmtf  lain    nt^-iMMiiwwiiifTn  _>.._ 


THE   PLEBEIAN. 


53 


III. 

THE    PLKBEIANS. 

rPHE  foreign  nobles  w}io  have  visited  Rome  in  their  cir- 
J-  nages  know  but  little  of  the  small  world  which  I  am  about 
to  descnbe.  They  remember  having  been  harassed  by  yellin- 
rascals  and  followed  by  indefatigable  beggars.     They  saw  only 

foTalmT"  '°  '^'"''''^ '  """^  '"'"'^  ""'^  '''""  '■°''-''"'  screaming 
Behind  this  curtain  of  mendicity  are  hidden  a  hundred  thou- 
sand persons,  almost  indigent,  but  not  idle,   and  hardly  earn- 
ing their  daily  bread.     .The  gardeners  and  vinedresse4  who 
cultivate  .a  part  of  the  suburbs  of  Rome,  the  mechanics,  the 
laborers,  the  domestics,  the  coachmen,  the  models,  the  itinerant 
merchants,  the  clever  vagabonds  who  look  for  their  supper  to  a 
miracle  of  Providence  or  a  lucky  number  of  the  lottery,  compose 
the  majority  of  the  population.    They  almost  subsist  durino-  the 
winter,  when  strangers  sow  manna  over  the  lan^ ;  in  summer 
they  draw  in  their  waistbands.     Many  of  them  are  too  proud  to 
ask  five  sous  of  you,  none  are  rich  enough  to  refuse  them  if 
ottered.     Ignorant  and  curious,  simple  and  subtle,  excessively 
sensitive  without  much  dignity,  ordinarily  more  than  prudent 
but  capable  of  the  most  glaring  imprudences  ;  extreme  in  friend- 
ship and  hatred,  easily  moved,  with  difficulty  convinced  ;  more 
open  to  feeling  than  ideas ;  habitually  sober,  terrible  in  intoxi- 
cation ;   sincere  in  the  practice  of  an  excessive  devotion,  but 
allmg  out  .with  the  saints  as  readily  as  with  men ;  persuaded 
that  they  have  little  to  hope  for  on  this  earth,  but  comforted  at 
times  by  the  hope  of  a  better,  they  hve,  in  a  somewhat  murmur- 
ing resignation,  under  a  paternal  government,  which  gives  them 
bread  when  there  is  any.    The  inequality  of  conditions,  more 


*•' 


apparent  in  Rome  than  at  Paris,  does  not  drive  them  to  hatred. 
They  comprehend  their  unpretending  lot,  and  congratulate  them- 
selves that  there  are  rich  people,  so  that  the  poor  may  have 
benefactors.     No  people  ia  less  capable  of  self-direction,  and  the 
first  comer  easily  leads  them.     They  have  played  the  part  of 
supernumerary  in  all  the  Roman  revolutions,  and  more  than  one 
has  fought  well  without  comprehending  the  piece  which  was  per- 
formed.    They  have  so  little  faith  in  the  republic,  that  inthe 
absence  of  aU  the  authorities,  wlien  the  Holy  Father  and  the 
Sacred  College  had  taken  refuge  at  Gaeta,  tliirty  plebeian  flunilies 
encamped  in  the  palace  of  Cardinal  Antonelli,  without  break- 
mg  a  glass.     Tlie  reestablishmeut  of  the  Pope  under  the  protec- 
tion of  a  foreign  army  did  not  astonish  them ;  they  looked  for 
It  as  a  happy  event  and  the  return  of  public  tranquillity.     They 
hve  in  peace  with  our  soldiers  when  our  soldiers  do  not  interfere 
with  their  households,  and  the  French  occupation  disturbs  them 
only  when  they  are  personally  incommoded.      They  are   not 
afraid  to  plant  the  knife  under  the  uniform  of  a  conqueror  but  I 
will  answer  for  it,  that  they  will  never  celebrate  the  Sicilian 
Vespers. 

They  plume  themselves  upon  their  direct  descent  from  the 
Romans  of  great  Rome,  and  this  innocent  boast  appears  to  me 
well  founded.     In   fine,  they  are  great  bread-eaters  and  very 
fond  of  shows.     They  treat  their  women  as  the  female  animal 
merely,  leaving  not  a  raiU  at  their  disposal,  but  spending  every- 
thmg  themselves ;  every  one  is  the  dependant  of  the  dependant  of 
a  patrician.     They  are  well  built,  robust,  and  capable  of  giving  a 
blow  from  the  shoulder  that  would  astonish  a  bufialo  ;  but  there 
is  not  one  who  is  not  looking  for  a  way  to  hve  without  work. 
Excellent  laborers  when  they  have  not  a  cent,  impossible  to  get 
hold  of  while  there  is  a  crown  in  their  pocket ;  honest,  unpretend- 
ing, simple-hearted  people,  but  convinced  of  their  superiority 
over  the  rest  of  mankind  ;  economical  to  the  last  point;  chewers 
of  dry  peas,  till  they  come  upon  a  glorious  chance  to  spend  their 
savings  in  a  single  day ;  they  hoard,  sou  by  sou,  ten  crowns  in 
the  year,  with  which  to  hire  a  prince's  box  at  the  .Carnival  or 
a  coach  to  show  themselves  at  the  fete  of  the  Divine  Passion.  It 
is  thus  that  the  Roman  populace  forgets  the  past  and  the  future  in 
the  Saturnalias.     Their  hereditary  want  of  foresight  is  explained 
by  the  irregularity  of  their  resources,  their  periodical  holidays, 


54 


ROME    OF   TO-DxVY. 


THE   PLEBEIAN. 


55 


and  the  impossibily  of  attaining,  without  a  miracle,  a  better  con- 
dition. They  are  wanting  in  several  virtues,  and,  among  others, 
in  delicacy ;  that  was  not  in  their  heritage  from  their  ancestors. 
They  are  not -deficient  in  steadiness  and  self-respect.  They 
drag  themselves  into  no  vulgar  jests  or  low  debauch.  You  will 
not  find  them  gratuitously  insulting  a  gentleman  who  is  passing, 
or  using  an  indecent  expression  before  a  woman.  That  class  of 
degraded  men,  called  the  canaille,  is  absolutely  unknown  here — 
the  ignoble  is  not  a  Roman  commodity. 

I  passed  the  whole  of  yesterday  in  the  plebeian  world ;  it  was 
Sunday.  As  I  descended  the  staircase  of  the  Academy,  I  met  a 
begging  friar.  These  are  the  plebeians  of  the  church.  lie  bowed 
to  me  politely,  without  knowing  tliat  I  belonged  to  the  house, 
and  stopped  to  odor  me  his  snutT-box. 

"  Many  thanks,"  said  I,  "  I  do  not  use  snuff." 

"So  much  the  worse,"  he  replied,  smilingly. 

"  And  why  ?" 

"Because,  if  you  had  accepted  my  pinch,  you  would  have 
given  me  some  pence  for  my  convent." 

I  smiled,  in  my  turn,  and  said  to  him,  "  Never  mind,  1  will 
give  you  what  you  want,  but  on  one  condition." 

"  What  is  it  r 

"  It  is  that  you  will  conduct  mo  to  the  Farnese  Gardens,  and 
answer  my  questions  by  the  way." 

"  Willingly  I  I  have  nothing  else  to  do  before  breakfast  I 
have  just  carried  in  my  last  salad." 

"  What  salad  ?" 

"What  will  be  eaten  at  the  Director's  table  this  evening." 

"  Why,  father,  do  you  sell  salad  ?" 

"  No,  I  present  it  to  the  benefactor  of  our  order.  The  Acad- 
emy, like  most  of  the  other  great  houses,  gives  us  alms  every 
month,  and  in  exchange  for  the  kind  attention,  we  bring  a  salad 
here  every  Sunday." 

He  related  to  me,  on  the  way,  all  the  small  trades  which  he 
practiced  gratuitously  for  the  profit  of  the  benefactors  of  his  order. 
He  extracticd  teeth  with  a  certain  dexterity — he  stood  for  a  head 
or  beard  in  the  studios  of  the  painters — he  attended,  candle  in 
hand,  the  interment  of  great  personages.  The  profession  of  the 
mendicant  monk  is  not  a  trade?  of  indolence.  They  are  tlie  con- 
fidants and  familiar  friends  of  the  lowly,  and  the  very  humble, 


»« 


ve>7  devoted  servants  of  the  great.    The  peonle  listen  to  them 
w.  bngly  because  they  are  also  of  the  people.   They  preach  in  tl™ 
Coh^seum,  m  the  squares,  in  tl>e  streets,  in  very  eommon  lan-^uaie 
the  hand  on  the  lup,  and  with  perfeet  plainness.     If  a  Cse 

Z'aiy'  """  '""  "^  ''"'  ^'"^"^™'  ^"^y  '■--  ■'  out  unrt 

know  httle  about  the  telegraph,  or  steau,,  o    gas,  but  we  knmr 
enough  to  give  good  advice."  fc    ,  "ui  T^e  know 

An  old  woman  here  cut  him  short,  by  calhng  his  name. 
J-ather    saidshe,  "my  number  has  not  come  up-   give  me 
ano  l.er.     Next  Saturday  noon  the  Roman  drawing  be/n," 

nepu.shed   her  away  with  his  hand,  sayin-  "  Walk  oft'wi.l. 
yourselfl     Wouldn't  it  be  better,  whe^  you  have  ten  1^ t 
buy  a  loaf  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  ^hieh  wo'uld  ^: ^  st  en^h 
than  to  lose  everything  in  the  lottery  ?"  strength, 

The  Capuchin  turned  his  back  without  a  reply.      "Sir  "  said 
he  to  me,  resuming  his  walk  and  eonvei^tion,  "they  will'neTer 
S^t  .t  out  of  the>r  heads  that  we  are  in  the  secret  o7tre  oUer^ 
If  I  were  to  make  up  lucky  nuu.bers  for  ail  who  apply  fo   S" 
there  would  bo  none  lea  for  myself."  1 1  J""'  "lem, 

I  undertook  to  question  him  upon  the  revenues  of  his  order 
and  the  rece,,«  that  may  be  made  by  a  capuchin  in  a  day  His 
reply  was  like  that  of  La  Fontain's  cobbler: 

"Sometimes  more,  sometimes  less.     Formerly,"  said  he  "I 
was  „,  a  convent  of  Tivoli;  I  begged  from  the  country  people  . 
and  received  alms  m  kmd.     On  such  travels  one  must  go  L  and  ' 
sweat  much,  to  get  a  little.     I  made  four  journeys  a  year  in  tho 
order  of  the  harvests.    On  the  first  trip  they  gave  me  wheat  and 
cocoons;  on  tlie  second  Indian  corn  and  beans;  at  the  third  wine 
and  01  at  the  last.     In  each  village  the  benefactor  of  our  order 
offered  me  hospitahty,  and  kept  my  small  collection,  which  the 
convent  ste«.ard  afterward  sent  for.     At  Rome,  cliarities  are  al- 
most always  made  in  money.     When  I  pose  in  a  studio,  they  are 
good  enough  to  give  me  the  price  of  a  sitting  for  a  model   When 
i  pull  a  tooth,  the  generous  patient  makes  me  a  present  of  a  ten- 


56 


ROME    OF   TO-DAY. 


cent  piece.  When  I  follow  a  nobleman's  funeral,  I  bring  back 
five  cents  and  a  candle.  When  an  artist  wants  my  elegant 
boxwood  rosary,  I  rarely  come  back  to  the  convent  without  a 
crown.  And,  lastly,  when  I  place  my  little  stock  of  knowledge 
at  the  disposal  of  a  pious  and  charitable  stranger,  I  am  almost 
sure  that  he  will  drop  twenty  cents  into  this  money-box." 

Mendicancy  is  and  will  be  flourishing  in  the  capital  of  the 
Christian  world.  It  can  not  be  interdicted,  nor  limited,  since  it 
is  a  perpetual  provocation  to  the  exercise  of  one  of  the  three 
cardinal  virtues.  Every  appeal  to  charity  has  been  permitted 
there  since  the  earliest  days  of  the  Church.  The  cripple  has  the 
right  to  show  the  passers-by  the  pitiful  nakedness  of  his  limbs. 
The  Romans,  solicited  on  every  hand,  satisfy  all  according  to 
their  means,  and  the  precepts  of  alms-giving.  Rich  and  poor 
give  much.  OstenL-ition  goes,  perhaps,  for  something  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  so  costly  a  virtue,  but  the  native  kind-heartedness  of 
the  people  has  also  its  share. 

Of  all  the  beggars  who  swarm  in  the  city,  the  most  honest 
and  the  most  useful  are  certainly  the  begging  friars.  But  it  is 
said  that  they  have  the  disagreeable  habit  of  entering  every- 
where, without  warning,  of  penetrating  abruptly  to  the  back 
shop,  and  begging,  in  a  toue  of  authority  embarrassing  to  the 
young  and  timid. 

We  will  return,  if  you  please,  to  the  Place  Farnese ;  it  was 
there  that  my  distributor  of  salads  left  me.  Travelers  who  are 
eager  to  behold  the  imposing  pile  of  the  Fames*  Palace,  its  cor- 
nice designed  by  Michael  Angclo,  and  the  twonfine  fountains 
which  play  before  the  facade,  may  go  there  at  all  times.  But  it 
is  on  Sunday  morning  that  I  go  by  choice.  On  Sunday  the 
country  people  come  into  Rome.  Those  who  seek  work  for  their 
arms,  come  to  hire  themselves  to  tlie  country  merchants,  that  is 
to  say,  the  farmers.  Those  who  are  liired,  and  who  work  beyond 
the  walls,  come  to  look  after  th^ir  aflairs  and  renew  their  provi- 
sions. They  come  into  the  city  at  twilight,  after  walking  a  large 
share  of  the  night.  Each  family  leads  an  ass,  which  carries  the 
baggage.  Men,  women,  and  children,  urging  on  the  ass  in  front, 
establish  themselves  in  a  corner  of  the  Place  Farnese  or  the  Place 
Montanara.  The  neighboring  shops  are  kept  open  till  noon  by 
special  privilege.  They  go,  they  come,  they  buy,  they  crouch  in 
corners  to  count  the  copper  change.     Meantime  the  asses  stand 


THE   PLEBEIAN. 


57 


on  their  four  feet  around  the  fountains.  The  women,  dressed  in 
their  cuirass  corset,  with  a  red  apron  and  a  barred  vest,  frame 
their  ruddy  faces  in  a  drapery  of  very  white  linen.  They  are 
like  pictures,  without  exception ;  when  it  is  not  for  the  beauty 
of  their  features,  it  is  for  the  simplicity  of  their  attitudes.  The 
men  have  the  long,  sky-blue  cloak  and  pointed  hat'.  Beneath 
these  their  working-clothes  do  wonderfully  well,  though  of  par- 
tridge color,  reddened  by  the  weather.  The  costume  is  not  uni- 
form ;  more  than  one  gray  cloak  is  pieced  with  bright  blue,  or  a 
madder  red.  The  straw  hat  abounds  in  summer.  They  are  ca- 
pricious in  the  matter  of  shoes ;  Jboot,  shoes,  and  sandals  succes- 
sively tread  the  pavement  The  unshod  may  find  large  and  deep 
shops,  where  the  desired  merchandise  is  sold.  There  are  shoes 
of  all  leathers  and  all  ages  among  these  treasures  for  the  feet ; 
you  may  find  buskins  of  the  year  oOO  of  the  republic,  by  looking 
well  for  them.  I  have  just  seen  a  poor  fellow  who  was  trying  on 
a  pair  of  top-boots ;  they  fit  his  legs  like  a  feather  in  a  pig's  ear, 
and  it  was  comical  to  see  the  grimace  which  accompanied  each 
attempt  to  put  his  foot  to  the  floor.  But  the  sliopkeepcr's  elo- 
quence kept  up  his  courage. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  said  he,  "  thou  wilt  suffer  for  five  or  six 
days,  and  then  thou  wilt  think  no  more  of  it." 

Another  merchant  measures  out  nails  by  the  pound,  the  cus- 
tomer himself  drives  tliem  into  his  boot  poles ;  there  are  benches 
ad  hoc.  Along  the  walls  five  or  six  straw  chairs  serve  as  shops 
for  so  many  barbers  in  the  open  air.  It  costs  one  cent  to  fell  a 
beard  of  a  week's  growth.  The  patient,  well  smeared  with 
soap,  looks  with  resignation  at  the  sky:  the  barber  pulls  his 
nose,  puts  his  fingers  in  his  mouth,  stops  to  sharpen  his  razor  on 
a  bit  of  leather  fastened  to  the  back  of  the  chair,  or  to  break  off 
a  corner  from  the  black  loaf  hanging  on  the  wall".  Still  the  ope- 
ration is  soon  finished,  the  shaved  man  rises,  and  his  place  is  re- 
filled. Me  might  go  and  wash  at  the  fountain,  but  he  finds  it 
easier  to  dry  himself  with  his  coat-sleeve.  The  public  writers 
alternate  with  the  barbers.  Letters  which  have  been  received 
are  brought  to  them ;  they  read  them  and  write  the  reply — total, 
three  cents.  As  soon  as  a  country  fellow  approaches  a  table  to 
dictate  anything,  five  or  six  curious  neighbors  press  closely  round 
him,  for  the  more  perfect  hearing.  There  is  a  certain  good  nature 
in  this  indiscretion ;  each  one  puts  in  a  word,  each  gives  his 


.3* 


58 


ROME   OF   TO-DAY. 


council.  "  Thou  sliouklst  have  said  this ;"  '•  No,  better  say  that ;" 
"  Let  him  speak  for  himself,"  cries  a  third,  "  he  knows  what  he 
wants  to  write  bettor  than  you." 

Some  wagons,  loaded  vwith  barley  and  corn-cake  circulate 
through  the  crowd.  A  lemonade  dealer,  armed  with  a  wooden 
squeezer,  crushes  lemons  into  the  glasses.  One  frugal  fellow 
drinks  at  the  fountain,  making  an  aqueduct  of  the  brim  of  his 
hat.  The  gourmand  buys  festal  viands  from  a  small  booth, 
where  odds  and  ends  from  some  kitchen  are  sold  by  the  liand- 
ful.  For  one  cent  the  retailer  fdls  a  scrap  of  newspaper  with 
hashed  beef  and  the  bones  from  a  ciitlut.  An  added  pinch  of 
Sfilt  sets  off  the  commodity  agreeably.  The  buyer  looks  to 
his  bargain,  not  as  to  the  price,  which  is  invariable,  but  as  to  the 
quantity ;  he  adds  to  the  heap  some  scraps  of  meat,  and  lie  is 
not  interfered  with,  for  no  bargain  is  concluded  in  Kome  without 
chafferiniT. 

Monks  and  hermits  pass  from  group  to  group,  begging  for  the 
souls  in  purgatory.  I  think  to  myself  that  these  poor  laborers 
have  their  purgatory  in  this  world,  and  that  it  would  be  better 
to  give  them  money  than  to  ask  it  from  them ;  they  give,  how- 
ever, and  without  waiting  for  importunity. 

Sometimes  a  ready  talker  amuses  himself  by  telling  a  story. 
A  circle  forms  round  him,  and  as  the  audience  grows,  he  raises 
his  voice.  I  have  seen  among  these  story-tellers  some  delicate 
and  spirited  physiognomies,  but  I  know  nothing  so  charming  as 
the  attention  of  their  audience.  The  painters  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury might  have  taken  from  the  Place  Montanara  the  disciples 
whom  they  grouped  around  Christ 

Music  distracts  me  from  the  conversation ;  I  nin.  You  know, 
perhaps, '  that  but  little  music  is  heard  in  Rome.  The  common 
])eople  sing  almost  as  false  as  the  Athenians,  and  with  the  same 
nasahty.  I  find  myself  here,  before  a  bHnd  guitaris^  a  lame 
viohnist,  and  an  old  prima  donna  of  the  streets,  who  make  as 
much  noise  as  two  Barbary  organs.  I  bought  their  lamentation, 
for  it  is  printed  by  permission.  I  might  translate  it  for  you  from 
beginning  to  end,  but  you  will  understand  the  hbretto,  when  you 
have  read  the  title  page : 


THE  PLEBEIAN.  59 

TRAaiC    EVENT, 

WHICH  OCCURRED  AT  BURGUNDY. 

PBAWN 

FROM    THE    HISTORY    OF    MARGUERITE, 

QUKEN   OF    THE   SAID    CITY. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  it  is  the  story  of  the  Tour  de 
Neslc — in  Italian  Tour  de  Nesler.  They  who  think  that  Flor- 
ence is  in  England,  because  Englishmen  come  from  Florence ; 
they  who  ask  which  of  the  two  is  the  largest,  France  or  Paris, 
do  not  find  it  difficult  to  persuade  themselves  that  Marguerite 
was  queen  of  a  city  called  Burgundy,  and  that  her  husband 
strangled  her  last  year. 

I  was  still  laughing  at  it  when  I  observed  near  a  booth  where 
cigar  stumps  were  sold  at  wholesale,  a  countryman,  more  than 
forty  years  old,  who  was  weeping  without  speaking  a  word,  or 
even  wiping  his  eyes.  His  face  was  of  a  commonplace  ugliness, 
and  his  grief  did  not  serve  to  embellish  him.  Two  or  three  men 
of  his  own  age  pressed  round  him  in  the  attempt  to  comfort  liim. 
In  one  hand  he  held  an  open  letter.  I  approached,  and  asked 
him  what  was  the  matter,  for  ihe  indiscretion  of  these  good 
people  is  contagious.     He  hstened  stupidly,  without  replying. 

One  of  the  bystanders  said  : 

"  It  is  a  letter  which  he  has  received  from  his  mother !" 

"Well?" 

"She  is  dead!" 

"  Simpleton,  since  she  w'rites  she  is  not  dead." 

"Oh,  sir!"  interrupted  the  sufferer,  "it  is  the  same  as  dead. 
But  read !" 

He  ofiered  me  his  letter,  and  I  read  it  aloud,  slowly,  for  it  was 
ill  written  and  full  of  faults  in  orthography,  but  antique  in  style 
and  resignation.  The  poor  fellow,  to  whom  one  of  the  writers 
of  the  place  had  already  spelt  out  the  sad  news,  repeated  each 
W'ord  aller  me  with  a  deep,  tranquil  sorrow,  his  tears  continuing 
to  run. 

This  is  what  his  motlier  had  written  : 

"  My  son.  I  write  you  those  lines  to  Ml  yon  that  I  have  reooived  the  viaticnm  and 
the  extreme  unction.  Hasten,  then,  to  come  hark  here,  that  1  may  see  you  once 
inrre  before  I  die.  If  you  delay  t<jo  long,  you  will  find  the  house  empty  of  me. 
I  tenderly  cnihrace  you,  and  send  you  my  maternal  blessing." 


60 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


What  say  you  of  it?  For  me,  I  do  not  believe  that  the 
heroines  of  old  Rome  could  have  faced  death  more  bravely,  and 
do  not  suppose  this  to  be  an  exceptional  courage.  The  Romans 
look  upon  natural  death  as  a  debt  to  be  paid ;  they  dislike  every- 
thing which  m,ay  hasten  the  time  of  its  falling  due.  They  say 
with  a  very  original  simphcity,  "I  don't  like  bathing,  people  are 
drowned ;  I  don't  wish  to  ride  on  horseback,  one  might  fall ;  I 
shall  not  go  to  the  war,  one  might  be  in  the  way  of  a  bullet." 
But  when  old  age  or  sickness  gives  them  the  signal  of  departure, 
their  knapsacks  are  soon  packed.  I  shall  relate  some  curious 
things  on  this  head  when  we  come  to  speak  of  death,  and  you 
you  will  see  that  there  are  good  lessons  to  be  learned  in  this 
countrJ^ 

I  returned  his  mother's  letter  to  my  rustic,  slipping  a  crown 
into  his  hand.  lie  did  not  think  of  thanks,  but  lie  began  again 
to  look  through  his  tears  at  the  sorrowful  writing  which  he  could 
not  read. 

When  the  cannon  of  Saint  Angelo  sounded  noon,  every 
corner  of  the  Place  Montanara  was  crowded  with  i^leepers. 
Each  family  formed  a  heap  of  magnificent  rags,  worth  a  fortune 
to  a  painter.  The  barbers  and  public  writers  begin  to  fold  their 
arms ;  the  neighboring  taverns  clear  themselves ;  the  bakeries, 
which  have  not  been  empty  since  morning,  lose  their  crowds, 
and  a  httle  silence  comes  after  so  much  noise.  But  let  a  priest 
go  by,  with  the  retinue  attending  the  viaticum,  every  sletper 
wakes  with  a  start,  and,  hat  in  hand,  falls  on  his  knees. 

I  quitted  the  Place  Montanara  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Ghetto, 
but  aslv  me  not  what  way  I  took.  I  have  forewarned  you  that 
I  never  know  my  way.  I  have  an  idea  that  the  Place  Farnese 
is  somewhere  near  the  Chancery,  where  fell  poor  Count  Rossi 
I  think  I  am  sure  that  the  Place  Montanara  is  nearly  at  the  foot 
of  the  Tarpeian  Rock ;  the  Ghetto  borders,  in  some  part,  the 
Tiber.  There  are  few  straight  streets  in  Rome,  except  between 
the  Corso  and  the  Piazza  d'Espagna.  All  the  lines  run  zig-zag, 
and  half  the  city  must  be  demolished  before  a  Rue  de  Rivoli 
can  be  drawn.  The  Tiber,  which  has  no  wharves,  winds  so 
capriciously  that  one  meets  it  every  where.  You  discover  ita 
yellow  waters  here,  through  a  door ;  there,  by  an  open  window. 
You  think  you  have  turned  your  back  upon  it  1     Not  at  all;  it 


THE   PLEBEIAN. 


61 


is  there  before  you.     Look  for  a  boat  or  a  bridge ;  they  may 
always  be  found. 

Thanks  to  my  favorite  system,  I  often  occupy  half  a  day  in 
discovering  the  house  where  I  happen  to  have  business ;  but  the 
adventures  by  the  way  make  up  for  lost  time.  What  makes 
Rome  the  most  agreeable  city  in  the  world,  and  the  very  best  to 
live  in,  is  that  there  is  always  something  new  to  be  found  Old 
men  of  a  hundred  years,  who  have  never  left  it,  still  make  dis- 
coveries at  their  very  door.  The  complication  of  the  streets,  the 
mystery  of  the  divisions,  adds  to  each  discovery  the  charm  of 
surprise.  I  begin  to  reUsh  that  Roman  delicacy  which  is  called 
the  uncertain.  Uncertainty  here  is  the  main-spring  of  society. 
How  many  there  are  who  exert  themselves  only  in  the  hope  of 
tlie  uncertain  I  A  servant  would  allow  you  to  cut  off"  a  hundred 
francs  from  his  yearly  wages,  rather  than  renounce  tlie  forty  or 
fifty  francs  of  bonne  main  which  compose  the  uncertain  in  his 
revenue.  A  coachman  drives  you  not  for  the  stipulated  forty 
cents,  but  for  the  five  or  six  cents  of  2^our  boire  which  he  is  not 
certain  to  get.  What  is  the  lottery,  if  not  the  temple  of  the  un- 
certain? When  I  am  accosted  in  the  streets  of  Rome,  I  am 
almost  always  in  a  condition  to  reply  like  Esop :  I  do  not  know 
where  I  am  going.  Neverthless,  I  never  miss  the  Ghetto,  because 
I  smell  it  from  afar. 

Before  involving  myself  in  its  streets  and  its  odors,  I  took  care 
to  breakfast.  That  is  not  an  easy  operation  in  Rome,  for  want 
of  restaurants.  There  are,  it  is  true,  the  tables  cChote  of  the  large 
hotels,  and  three  confectioners,  who  will  serve  you  if  it  suits 
them,  but  all  that  belongs  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  Piazza 
d'Espagna,  and  we  are  fur  away  from  there.  Faith,  said  I,  in- 
ternally, since  I  am  up  to  the  neck  in  la  PUbe,  I  will  even  break- 
fast in  plebeian  fiishion,  and  the  first  fruit  shop  shall  be  my 
restaurant.  I  had  soon  found  what  I  looked  for.  At  a  turn  in 
the  street,  a  large  stall,  in  the  open  air,  offered  to  my  choice  ten 
gilded  mountains,  in  large  dishes  of  copper,  tinned  and  covered 
with  gothic  inscriptions.  Two  steps  away  an  enormous  stove  was 
sputtering;  the  wares  were  hot  and  tempting.  I  got  a  small 
loaf  of  the  nearest  baker,  a  glass  of  lemonade  at  the  next  foun- 
Uin ;  fried  fish,  fried  artichokes,  and  fritters  furnished  a  glorious 
repast.  I  have,  perhaps,  never  breakfasted  better  in  Rome,  since 
the   fryin,u   was   in   (»ii.   without  intprmixtnro   with  the  strono: 


62 


ROITE    OF  TO-DAY. 


butter,  wliich  poisons  every  thing.  Oh,  ye  magnificent  herds  of 
the  Campagna  Romana,  large,  white,  gray-striped  cows,  what 
butter  is  produced  from  your  milk  !  The  cooks  of  Paris  have  a 
saying  that  spinage  is  death  to  butter;  at  Rome,  on  the  contrary. 
it  is  butter  that  is  death  to  spinage. 


III. 


TUE     GHETTO. 


T  HAD  washcu  :uy  hands  in  the  fountain,  and  was  drying  them 
J-  in  the  sun,  when  the  murmur  of  a  sniffling  voice'  at'tracted 
my  attention.  Following  the  direction  of  the  sound.  I  wa3  ?oon 
led  to  one  of  those  innumerable  madonnas  which  the  devotion 
of  tjie  Romans  has  caused  to  be  set  up  in  all  the  walls.  Four 
men  of  the  humbler  class,  three  advanced  in  years,  and  one  still 
youn-  were  kneeling  in  the  dust,  with  their 'faces  toward  the 
wai;  and  were  muttering  piously  the  htanies  of  the  Virgin.  Here 
human  respect  is  no  restraint,  and  Christian  souls  are""  httle  dis- 
turbed by  the  reflection  of  what  men  will  think  of  them.* 

A  httle  farther  on  I  found  the  middle  of  the  street  inundate«J. 
Two  laborers  were  working  a  pump  to  draw  the  water  from  a 
ave.  Inundations  are  as  common  in  Rome  as  fires  are  rare. 
The  houses  are  seldom  burne.i  down,  for  the  apartments  are 
large  and  sparingly  furnished,  and  fire  is  rarely  used ;  perhaps 
another  reason  is,  that  the  ground-floor  is  constantlv  kept  damp 
by  the  passers-by.  The  soil  beneath  the  city  is  traversed  in  all 
directions  by  thousands  of  aqueducts  and  water-pipes,  that  sup- 
ply the  private  r^^idences  and  r^-  r.,,?.-:^  fountains.     The  neigh- 

•  Some  .crnplcs  disturbed  mr  mind  ju  I  reriewed  this  passage ;  rtt  strangeir 
enoogb,  another  incident,  anal^^^ous  in  character,  oc^ura  to  me. 

on^  beautifal  crcnin?  in  the  month  of  Mar,  I  met,  at  the  hoar  of  the  Ave 
J^ona,  a  pro'-e«i..n     "  -  .-  r  dA»e«,  abo.t  eighteen  or  twenty 

in  number.     Th.  v  .:  ...  ^.  _,,..,,,,.  ,i,  »n  i.^^^^  ^  ^^  ^^^^^  ^^  ^^ 

blesaed  Vtrjrin. 

\VbUe  I  »aa  inwardly  admi.-ing  this  act  of  spontaneo  i«  d^Totion,  I  was  inter- 
rupted by  an  ir  Hon  near  roe,  who  with  Tenement  gesture*  shouted 
X^  ~  ta  <  ror*^),  "What  an  impudent  rabble! 
notcp.  -  ..?  Har^  they  not  well  e*nied  the  thirty 
which  the  pari*h  pays  them  for  cd-'ri;:-  s-j-an-ersl" 


Wit^il 


64 


ROME   OP   TO-DAY. 


TUE    GHETTO. 


65 


boring  mountains  send  their  pure  water  to  Rome  by  the  shortest 
course,  and  that  from  a  remote  antiquity;  for  the  muddy  liquid 
of  the  Tiber  has  never  been  fit  to  drink.  Water  abounds  on  the 
estates  of  private  individuals,  as  well  as  in  the  pubHc  squares. 
It  comes  sometimes  in  such  quantities  that  they  mi<rht  speak  of 
torrents  discharged  into  lakes,  as  at  the  fountain  of  "Paolina  and 
that  of  Trevi.  If  Naples  hangs  over  a  volcano,  Rome  stands 
over  a  thousand  rivers.  When  I  return  to  the  Academy  a  little 
late,  I  hear  only  the  sound  of  water  in  the  deep  silence  of  the 
night.  But  the  aqueducts  are  hable  to  eruptions,  and  hence  we 
have  pump-makers  in  the  city. 

I  entered  the  Ghetto  by  the  Place  of  the  Synagogues.  Of 
these  congregations,  installed  in  two  houses,  there  are"  five  for  the 
four  Jewish  rites  in  the  city,  namely,  the  Italian,  the  Portuguese, 
the  Spanish  and  the  Sicilian.  The  synagogues  are  clean  and 
unpretending ;  but  their  parishes  are  filthy  enough  to  make  one 
shudder. 

Certainly,  the  sewerage  in  the  capital  of  the  Christian  wo?ld  is 
capable  of  much  improvement.  The  streets  are  allowed  to 
become  dirty,  and  too  little  attention  is  given  to  cleaning  them. 
The  windows  are  too  often  opened  to  let  fall  unmendonablJ 
tilings.  The  quantity  of  linen  drying  along  the  houses  and  the 
palaces  makes  the  stranger  believe  that  he  is  entering  into  tlie 
metropolis  of  the  laundry  business.  Yet  you  see  only  hlies  and 
roses  there  after  a  visit  to  the  Ghetto.  In  the  Christian  quarters 
of  the  city,  the  rain  washes  the  streets,  the  sun  dries  up  the 
impurities,  the  wind  carries  off  the  dust;  but  neither  rain,  nor 
wind,  nor  sun  can  clean  the  Ghetto;  that  would  require  a  flood, 
or  a  conflagration. 

You  have,  perhaps,  heard  how  prolific  the  Romans  are.  You 
do  not  meet  a  woman  in  the  street  without  at  least  one  child  in 
her  arms.  But  at  the  Ghetto  it  is  another  thing.  There  the 
children  are  born  in  clusters,  and  every  family  composes  a  tribe. 
If  we  may  believe  the  last  census,  there  are  four  thousand  one 
hundred  and  ninety  Jews  in  this  valley  of  mud.  They  hve  in 
the  streets,  standing,  sitting,  lying  in  the  midst  of  rags.  One 
must  look  well  before  him,  or  he  will  commit  infanticide  at  every 
step.  TJieir  appearance  is  ugly,  their  color  livid,  their  physiog- 
nomy degraded  by  want  and  misery.     Still  these  wretches  Je 


i 

ai 

1 


1 

I 


intelligent,  apt  at  business,  resigned,  easily  provided  for   and 
irreproachable  in  their  manners.  ' 

The  existence  of  a  colony  of  Jews  within  a  few  steps  of  the 

Apostolic  Sec  is  a  curious  anomaly     It  wonlH  h7 
ctin  i„.i  ♦!        1  i^yjujciiy.     II  would  be  more  cunous 

st.ll  had  he  colony  prospered.  But  it  has  not.  The  Ghetto  , 
poor  and  I  ,vill  tell  you  why  it  will  be  so  always.  A  Jew  can 
neither  be  a  landholder,  a  farmer,  nor  a  m.nufactnrer  Be  cTn 
sol  new  art,cles  and  old  ones,  can  repair  and  renew  thelatter 
but  wo„H  volate  the  law  were  he  to  manufacture  a  chat  ^ 
wa,s,coat,  or  a  pair  of  shoes.  Restricted  to  trade  the  Jews 
sometimes  succeed  in  making  a  fortune,  but  they  al'  once  en^ 

tol.rant.     They  send  their  property  to  Le-hom,  and  in  nrooor 

preserved  the  Jews  as  a  specimen  of  an  accursed  peonle  doomed 
to  draw  out  a  miserable  existence  until  the  consuniSon  of"S 

two  ni'Z;  2Z::Tirl  "^  ■"  ^^^  -"^^  °f  ^geria, 
]««        r         ,  ^  ^  ^^    ^^  Lawrence,  and  more  than  a 

^Tot"it::Tr'  ^°^"°"  <"■ '"« •="^'  ^tat  :i  x 

TnT.,      T  '  ""^  fourteenth  century  this  rigor  was  relaxed 

and  the  Jews  were  permitted  to  inhabit  the  Trastevere     Be 
t«-een  loo.3  and  looO  they  took  a  new  step.     PaTlV  esteb" 
t^    tTt  It  Zl^'T     ''^  '"'''  "'  theifprison  'werJ  c^J 

m  Uic  winter.     Il  any  one  entered  at  a  later  hour  it  was  onlv 

by  purchash"  the  fivnr  nf  *i,=  o„i  r  '  ^ 

i  \    .    ,   '""  'nei-i^orol  the  soldiers  on  guard.     The  ownor. 

1:1^"^:  T  'T''  '^''^'^^  "'  rehgioustruL" 
Sv  Th,?°h^  't  a  work  of  piety  to  fleece  the  Jews  without 
P't}.     This  abuse  e.xc.ted  the  compassion  of  Urban  VIII     He 

otTer  for  fif  •  '  ''°"'"  '^■'"  '°  ^'  ^''  ^°^  f*"  ^^«-™  an- 

other for  fifteen,  on  a  perpetual  lease,  transferable  to  the  most 

remote  posterity.     L,  consideration  of  ten  crowns  the  oler 

was  obhg.d  to  make  aU  necessary  repairs.     Urban  VIII.  die^Two 


66 


ROME   OF   TO-DAY. 


THE   GHETTO. 


67 


hundred  and  thirty-four  years  ago,  and  the  imprudent  measure 
has  still  the  force  of  law.  The  consequence  is,  that  rents  have 
risen  everywhere  but  in  the  Ghetto.  There  the  Jewish  tenants 
live  literally  at  the  expense  of  their  landlords.  One  was  pointed 
out  to  me,  who  is  maintained  by  an  Ursuline  convent.  He  rents 
for  thirty  crowns  one  of  the  largest  and  most  eligible  houses, 
and  sub-lets  it  for  fifteen  times  as  much,  that  is  to  say,  for  four 
hundred  and  fifty  crowns. 

As  the  building  is  not  new,  the  Ursulines  have  to  pay  a  hun- 
dred crowns  annually  for  repairs.  They  are  consequently  under 
the  necessity  of  appealing  to  the  courts  to  compel  so  burdensome 
a  tenant  to  keep  the  house  in  repair  at  his  own  expense,  without 
paying  rent.  Our  Jew  resists  the  demand  like  a  good  fellow. 
His  lease  is  the  patrimony  of  his  children — his  daughter's 
dowry  I 

Since  1847  the  gates  of  the  Ghetto  have  been  demolished, 
and  no  visible  barrier  separates  the  Jews  from  the  Christians, 
By  law,  if  not  by  custom,  they  are  permitted  to  reside  in  what- 
ever part  of  the  city  they  please.  Some  of  them  regret  to  sen 
that  the  owners  of  houses  in  the  better  quarters  of  the  city  will 
not,  or  dare  not,  take  them  for  tenants ;  they  complain  of  being 
forced  to  give  up  in  secret  the  liberty  which  has  been  publicly 
accorded  them.  They  accuse  the  pontifical  government  of 
regretting  too  actively  the  concessions  of  1847.  They  demand 
the  restoration  of  the  gates  which  rendered  them  interesting, 
while  assuring  their  tranquillity  for  the  night.  The  wisest  in 
Israel  philosophically  take  part  in  this,  rejoice  in  the  half  gratui- 
tous rents,  the  moderate  taxes,  and  the  benefits  of  a  powerful 
foreign  protector,  who  introduces  into  all  his  financial  treaties 
som«  secret  article  in  their  favor.  They  remember,  too,  that  if 
Purgatory  is  at  Rome,  Paradise  is  at  Leghorn. 

It  is  only  during  the  reign  of  Pius  IX.  the  Jews  have  ceased 
to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  Carnival.  In  the  middle  ages 
they  paid  it  all.  The  municipality  diverted  the  people  with  the 
spectacle  of  Jew  races.  Benedict  XIV.  substituted  horses  with- 
out riders,  which  ran  better  beyond  question ;  but  it  cost  the 
Jews  eight  hundred  crowns  a  year.  Tlicir  chiefs  used  to  carry 
tliis  sum  with  great  parade  to  the  Senator,  who  received  them 
witliout  ceremony. 

"  Who  are  you  ?" 


"  Roman  Jews." 

"  I  know  you  not.     Begone !" 

To  this  affable  remark,  tlie  chief  magistrate  of  the  city  was 
wont  to  add,  ten  years  ago,  a  significant  movement  of  his  foot 
The  embassy,  when  thus  dismissed,  betook  itself  to  one  of  the 
city  commissioners. 

"  Who  are  you  ?" 

"  Roman  Jews." 

"  What  do  you  want  ?" 

"  We  humbly  implore  from  3''0ur  lordship  the  favor  of  living 
here  one  year  longer." 

This  permission  was  granted  them  duly,  accompanied  witli 
certain  insults ;  and  they  expressed  their  gratitude  by  offering 
the  eight  hundred  crowns,  which  the  official  graciously  deigned 
to  accept.  The  Sovereign  has  freed  them  of  this  expense  and 
humiliation.  There  is  another,  however,  from  which  they  are 
not  yet  exempt.  At  the  accession  of  each  Pope  the  deputies 
of  the  Jewish  people  place  themselves  in  the  path  of  the  Holy 
Father,  near  the  arch  of  Titus, 

The  Pope  asks  them  what  they  are  doing  there.  They  pre- 
sent him  a  Bible,  saying: 

*'  We  beg  permission  to  offer  to  your  Holiness  a  copy  of  our 
law  1" 

The  Pope  accepts  it,  saying : 

"  Excellent  law  1  detestable  race  1" 

You  will  observe  at  the  entrance  to  the  Ghetto  at  the  end  of 
the  Ponte  Quottro  Capi ;  a  small  church,  to  which  the  Jews 
were  forced  to  repair  every  Saturday  after  dinner  to  the  number 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty.  A  preacher,  paid  at  their  expense, 
regaled'  them  with  an  excellent  diatribe  against  the  obstinate 
and  perverse  character  of  their  race.  The  one  hundred  and  fifty 
hearers  were  very  regular  in  their  attendance,  and  for  this  reason ; 
the  community  had  to  pay  a  crown  a  head  for  every  absentee. 
An  old  Jew  of  my  acquaintance  said  to  me  yesterday,  "  In 
twenty-five  yeai-s,  sir,  I  have  not  missed  the  sermon  once." 

But  this  people  is  stiff'-necked ;  it  will  not  be  converted  by 
force. 

Pius  IX.  dispensed  the  Jews  from  the  homily,  and  the  little 
church  is  deserted.  They  tried  the  experiment  of  sending  the 
Abb^  Battisbonne  to  preach  there,  but  nobody  came  to  hear 


..  -A 


68 


ROME   OF   TO-DAY. 


THE   GnETTO. 


69 


him.     Still  there  is  one  conversion  made  every  year,  on  the  Sat- 
urday of  the  Passover.     The  baptistry  of  Constantino  swings 
open  on  that  day  to  an  old  Jewess,  who  gains  eighty  crowns  and 
Paradise.     The  people  of  Rome  do  not  beUeve  much  in  the  sin- 
cerity of  the  chatechcumens.      "  Now,"  they  say,  "  the  Jews  are 
becoming  Turks."     The  Jews  at  Rome  are  no  longer  shut  un  at 
night,  fleeced  at  the  Carnival,  nor  chatechized  against  their  will ; 
and  it  is  to  Pius  IX.  that  they  owe  this  threefold  boon.     They 
are  watched  over  by  the  Rabbis,  and  tlie  laws  relating  to  them 
administered  by  their  principal  men.     If  one  of  them  violates 
tlie  law  of  the  Sabbath,  it  is  at  the  demand  of  the  Rabbi  that 
the  Cardinal- Vicar  sends  him  to  the  galleys.     During  the  inun- 
dations of  the  Tiber,  the  Roman  municipality  sends" provisions 
to  their  homes,  and  exhibits  the  delicate  attention  of  furnishing 
them  with  flesh  of  animals  killed  according  to  the  Jewish  rites 
We  must  not  forget  that  a  large  number  of  the  Jews  are  pro- 
vided for  by  their  landlords.      They  are  taxed,  in  the  aggre- 
gate, four  hundred  and  fifty  crowns,  of  about  one  dollar  each, 
which,  divided  among  nearly  four  thousand  five   hundred  per- 
sons, amounts  to  a  little  more  than  ten  cents  each.     The  con- 
tribution is  not  oppressive,  still  they  have  refused  to  furnish  it 
since  1848. 

The  origin  of  this  tax  ls  worthy  of  being  related.     Two  or 
three  hundred  years  ago,  a  Jew  was  converted,  entered  a  con- 
vent of  neophytes,  and  in  the  silence  of  his  ceU  WTote  a  pam- 
phlet against  his  co-religionists.     He  accused  them,  amon«-  other 
thmgs,  of  eating  the  flesh  of  infants.     Such  aboundin-  ze"al  was 
recompensed.     An  order  was  sent,  compelling  the  Tnlmbitants 
of  the  Ghetto  to  pay  four  hundred  and  fifty  crowns  a  year  to 
the  wnter  who  had  so  well  described  then).     The  Ghetto  paid 
the  amount,  and  the  income  of  the  neophyte  naturally  went  into 
^e  chest  of  the  convent.   But  in  the  course  of  time  the  converted 
Jew  died,  for  he  was  not  immortal.     The  convent,  which  had 
enjoyed  tlie  benefits  of  the  tax,  and  had  found  it  agreeable 
would  not  give  it  up.     -  Is  it  our  fault,"  said  the  monks,  -  that 
our  brother  is  dead  ?     We  have  done  our  best  to  take  care  of 
him      This  tax  was  his  property,  and  we  are  his  heirs.     Besides, 
the  Jews  have  acquired  the  habit  of  paving  four  hundred  and 
fifty  crowns  a  year,  and  Rr)inp  is  a  city  of  habit."     To-day  the 
JcAVB  claim  that,  as  they  have  not  paid  it  sinc«  1848,  thev  have 


1 


i 


completely  lost  the  habit,  and  that  nothing  in  the  world  would 
induce  them  to  resume  it  After  long  debates  between  them  and 
the  convent,  the  Pope  has  agreed  to  release  them,  for  the  past 
and  the  future,  in  consideration  of  one  quarter  of  the  sum  de- 
manded. But  the  Jews  will  not  listen  to  it ;  they  much  prefer 
to  pay  nothing  at  all. 

If  Ihey  accept  the  conditions  thus  oflered,  they  will  be  here- 
after, like  gentlemen,  exempt  from  all  taxes. 

Will  they,  on  that  accouut,  be  better  off?  I  do  not  know.  I 
have  related  faithfully  all  that  the  government  of  Pius  IX.  has 
done  in  their  favor,  but  it  is  impossible  to  conceal  the  fact  that 
the  Jewish  popi^lation  is  rapidly  decreasing  in  the  States  of  the 
Church.  In  1842,  under  the  severe  Gregory  XVI.,  it  consisted 
of  twelve  thousand  seven  hundred  persons.  In  1853,  eleven 
years  later,  under  the  paternal  reign  of  Pius  IX.,  it  had  decreased 
more  than  twenty-five  per  cent,  and  amounted  to  only  nine 
thousand  two  hundred  and  thirty-seven  souls. 

This  frightful  reduction  in  the  numbers  of  a  race  naturally  pro- 
lific can  be  explained  only  by  emigration.  I  am  informed — 
indeed,  I  know— that,  in  fact,  the  Jews  desert  the  Papal  States 
as  soon  as  they  can  obtain  a  passport  and  pay  the  expenses  of 
the  joumt^y. 

These  unfortunates  have  not  been  willing,  or  rather  have  not 
dared  to  say  what  drives  them  away.  The  boldest  have  adjured 
me  to  write  nothing  in  their  favor,  if  I  did  not  wish  to  aggra- 
vate the  evils  which  were  overwhelming  them.  In  fine,  I  have 
come  to  know  tliat  the  toleration  of  the  existing  government  is 
merely  superficial.     Here  is  a  fact  in  support  of  my  hypothesis  : 

A  Roman  Jew  gained  his  livelihood  as  a  farmer.  "^To  violate 
the  law  in  so  flagrant  a  manner  he  had  need  of  an  accomphce, 
and  found  a  Christian  who  consented,  for  a  pecuniary  consider- 
ation, to  lend  him  his  name.  But  the  rabble  of  the  neighborhood 
were  not  long  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  the  crops  belonged  to  a 
Jew,  and  they  betook  themselves  at  once  to  plunder.  A  holy 
marauding  expedition  was  organized  against  the  wheat  and  the 
corn  of  tlie  poor  Hebrew ;  every  one  believed  that  his  salvation 
depended  in  part  on  his  taking  a  hand.  The  plundered  man 
dared  neither  complain  nor  resist  But  it  fortunately  occurred 
to  hun  that  the  French  were  in  Rome,  and  exercised  there  a  cer- 


10 


ROME   OF   TO-DAY. 


tarn  authority.  He  ventured  to  solicit  Count  de  Govon  for  the 
favor  of  swearing  a  guard,  who  should  report  when*  necessary. 
Count  de  Goyon,  all  politics  apart,  is  an  excellent  man.  Ho 
pitied  the  Jew,  and  promised  to  obtain  for  him  what  he  a.sked. 
He  did  more ;  he  went  in  person  to  his  Eminence,  Cardinal  An- 
tonelli,  and  stated  the  facts. 

The  Cardinal  did  not  conceal  his  opinion  that  it  would  be  mon- 
strous to  administer  an  oath  to  a  Christian  in  the  interest  of  a 
Jew.  Still,  as  nothing  could  be  relused  to  the  most  steadfast 
ally  of  the  Holy  See,  he  promised  not  only  that  a  guard  should 
be  sworn,  but  that  he  would  select  the  man  himself 

Ample  time  was  taken  for  the  choice ;  somethini^  like  three 
months.  The  pillage  meanwhile  went  on,  the  Jew  dared  say  no 
more,  and  the  General,  satisfied  in  his  own  mind  that  he  had 
performed  a  good  act,  remained  at  ease.  One  fine  mornincr  a 
timid  voice  aroused  him  with  the  intimation  that  nothing  had 
been  done.  After  a  hasty  reply,  he  proceeded  to  the  Vatican,  a 
second  time.  The  authorities,  now  driven  to  the  wall,  made  no 
further  resistance.  The  guard,  so  long  promised,  was  granted. 
The  nomination  was  signed  on  the  spot.  Count  de  Goyon 
brought  back  the  document  himself,  and  put  it  triumphantly  in 
the  hands  of  his  protege. 

The  Jew  was  profuse  in  his  expressions  of  grauiuae.  He 
almost  bathed  with  his  tears  the  blessed  name  of  the  guard  that 
had  been  so  graciously  assigned  him. 

It  proved  to  be  the  name  of  a  person  who  could  not  be  found, 
who  disappeared  six  years  before,  and  of  whom  nothing  had 
since  been  heard  I 

What  was  to  be  done?  return  to  the  General?  make  his  com- 
plaint a  third  time  ?  prove  to  a  gallant  soldier  and  an  eminent 
statesman  that  the  authorities  at  Rome  had  made  a  fool  of  him  ? 
The  Jew  thought  it  all  over. 

But  the  police,  who  never  sleep,  ordered  him  to  stay  at  home, 
to  be  contented  and  enjoy  himself,  under  pain  of  tlie  severest 
measures. 

When  the  French  officers  accidentally  met  him  some  timo 
afterward,  they  said  to  him,  "  Well,  you  have  your  rights !  Your 
crops  are  safe !     You  owe  a  tall  candle  to  the  French  army." 

He  thanked  them  prudently,  smiled  as  he  was  bid,  and  went 
mto  a  corner  to  weep. 


THE   GHETTO. 


71 


I  need  not  here  /ecord  the  history  of  young  Mortara.  It 
proves  that  the  men  who  are  most  habituated  to  act  before  the 
world  the  part  of  toleration,  sometimes  forget  their  part. 

The  affair  of  Padova,  which  is  less  known,  merits  equal  cele- 
bnty.  I  gave  an  account  of  it  long  since,  but  will  not  neglect 
this  opportunity  of  repeating  it. 

M.  Padova,  a  Jewish  merchant  of  Cento,  in  the  province  of 
Ferrara,  had  a  wife  and  two  children.  A  CathoUc  clerk  seduced 
Mme.  Padova.  Having  been  detected  and  driven  away  by  the 
husband,  he  fled  to  Bologna,  whither  he  was  followed  by  tlie 
faithless  wife,  who  took  her  children  with  her. 

The  injured  husband  went  in  hot  haste  to  Bologna  and 
demanded  that  his  children  should  be  restored  to  him  The 
authorities  replied  that  the  children  had  been  baptized,  as  also 
their  mother,  and  that  there  was  an  impassable  gulf  between  him 
and  his  family.  However,  they  gave  him  the  privilege  of  paying 
at  intervals  a  certain  sum  of  money,  on  which  the  family  sub- 
sisted, including  the  lover  of  ^Ime.  Padova.  A  few  months  after- 
ward, he  might  have  been  present  at  the  marriage  of  his  legiti- 
mate wife  with  her  seducer.  The  officiating  prelate  was  his 
eminence  Cardinal  Oppizoni,  Bishop  of  Bologna. 

Tiiey  have  related  to  me  the  history  of  a  Jew  who  derived  from 
his  religion  a  most  singular  advantage.  He  had  committed  a 
cnme  almost  unheard  of  among  the  Hebrews  of  our  day.  He 
had  committed  murder,  and  the  victim  was  his  own  brother-in- 
law.  The  evidence  was  clear,  and  the  fact  proved  beyond  ques- 
tion. The  following  is  a  sketch  of  the  Hne  of  defense  employed 
by  his  advocate : 

'•  Gentlemen,  whence  comes  it  that  the  law  severely  punishes 
murderers,  and  sometimes  proceeds  so  far  as  to  visit..them  with 
death?  It  is  for  the  reason  that  in  assassinating  a  Christian,  a 
body  and  a  soul  are  killed  at  the  same  time.  For  in  that  cLe 
a  being  is  hurried  before  the  sovereign  Judge,  unprepared,  who 
has  not  repented,  who  has  not  received  absolution,  and  goes  right 
mto  hell,  or  at  least  into  purgatory.  This,  gentlemen,  is  the 
reason  why  murder— I  mean  the  murder  of  a  Christian— can  not 
be  too  severely  punished.  But  as  for  my  client  here— what  has 
he  slam  ?  Nothing,  gentlemen,  but  a  miserable  Jew,  doomed  in 
advance  to  perdition.  Had  he  been  aUowed  a  hundred  years  for 
his  conversion— you  know  the  obstinacy  of  his  race— he  would 


72 


/ 


KOME    OF   TO-DAY. 


THE   GHETTO. 


have  died  without  confession,  like  a  brute.  Wo  have,  I  admit, 
forestalled  by  a  few  years  the  maturity  dl'  Celestial  justice ;  we 
have  hastened  for  him  an  eternity  of  suffering  which  he  could 
not  escape,  sooner  or  later.  But  be  indulgent  to  a  venial  error, 
and  reserve  your  severity  for  those  who  aim  at  the  life  and  the 
salvation  of  a  Christian." 

Such  pleading  would  be  ridiculous  at  Paris ;  it  was  logical  at 
Rome.     The  culprit  escaped  with  a  few  months'  imprisonment. 

The  Jews  are  tolerated  in  many  cities  of  the  Roman  State, 
and  in  some  of  the  villages.  They  Hve  in  Rome,  Ancona,  Ferrara, 
Pesaro,  Seniglglia.  In  Rome,  however,  they  are  treated  with 
the  most  lenity.  Lnst  year  the  delegate  of  Ancona  put  in  ope- 
ration an  old  law  which  prohibits  Christians  from  associating  in 
public  with  Jews. 

The  lower  classes  despise  the  Jews,  but  do  not  hate  them. 
I  have  seen  a  boy  of  fifteen  yeai-s  go  up  to  an  aged  Jew  and 
crush  his  hat  over  his  eyes ;  but  he  would  not  have  done  him 
any  real  harm.  I  have  heard  a  peasant  say  to  a  Jew,  "  You  are 
very  fortunate,  you  folks ;  you  do  not  fear  dying  by  accident 
(without  confession),  for  you  have  no  soul  to  save,  as  we  have." 

The  monks,  the  priests,  and  generally  all  the  inferior  clergy, 
visit  the  Ghetto  without  marked  repugnance.  The  Pope,  the 
Cardinals,  the  Bishops,  and  the  simple  Monsignori  are  excluded 
from  this  impure  locality.  They  would  lose  caste  were  they  to 
set  foot  within  its  borders. 

The  Roman  ecclesiastics  make,  however,  a  great  distinction 
between  Jews  and  Protestant?.  If  they  have  a  little  contempt 
for  the  one,  they  cherish  an  intense  hatred  to  the  other;  for  the 
Jews  are  vanquished,  while  the  Protestants  are  rebels.  The 
Church  has  not  forgotten  that  great  principle  of  Roman  pohcy, 
which  Yirgil  condensed  in  a  single  Une — 

"  Spare  the  vanquished,  crush  the  prond."  • 

Allow  me  to  cite  a  f;\ct  in  support  of  my  position.  A  Jew  of 
Paris,  who  had  come  to  spend  the  Holy  Week,  was  lodging  in  a 
private  house.  Some  days  after  Easter,  he  was,  by  mistake,  vis- 
ited by  one  of  the  priests  appointed  to  collect  the  tickets  of  con- 
fession, and  to  indicate  to  the  officers  of  justice  whoever  had 
violated  the  commandment  of  the  church. 


V3 


li 


"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  the  Jew,  opening  his  door,  "  I  am  not 
a  Christian." 

"  Monsieur  is  a  Lutheran  ?"  interrogated  the  priest,  with  more 
pohteness  than  delicacy. 

"No,  sir;  a  Jew." 

"  Come,  come,  that  is  not  so  bad." 

It  is  certain  that  the  Jews,  however  elevated  by  fortune,  pre- 
serve a  respectful  attitude  toward  the  Holy  See.  They  do  not 
lend  the  Pope  their  money  without  asking  pardon  for  the  great 
liberty,  while  the  Protestants  make  a  show  of  their  rebellion. 
There  is  always  at  Easter,  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  a  six-foot  Eng- 
lishman, standing  on  his  legs  in  the  midst  of  the  kneeling  crowd. 
It  is  of  no  use  to  root  him  out ;  he  springs  up  again  the  next 
year. 

But  I  return  to  the  Ghetto.  This  little  window  on  the  third 
story  of  a  wretched  house,  in  one  of  the  vilest  lanes  of  the 
quarter,  is  celebrated  in  the  amusing  traditions  of  the  Academy 
of  France. 

It  is  customary  for  the  new  pensioners  to  pay  their  entrance 
fee  in  a  way  filled  with  practical  jokes  and  mystifications  innu- 
merable, and  sometimes  rather  severe.  A  story  is  told  of  a 
young  Jewish  composer,  who  was  apprised  on  his  arrival  that  he 
would  have  to  lodge  in  the  Ghetto. 

"  You  can  eat  here,  because  we  are  in  an  asylum  of  refuge, 
but  you  will  have  to  sleep  among  your  own  people ;  the  Roman 
law  is  inflexible  on  that  point." 

He  dined  with  his  fellow-students,  and  after  the  dessert,  was 
conducted  to  the  apartment  that  had  been  procured  for  him. 
The  appointments  of  the  room  were  such  as  to  excite  an  in- 
voluntary shudder  in  a  sensitive  mind  on  entering  it.  The 
bed  had  scarcely  three  feet  to  stand  upon.  The  hostess  was 
distinguished  by  a  filthy  exterior  of  the  most  revolting  kind. 
She  was  profuse  in  her  bewildering  hospitalities.  Unconscious 
of  the  disgust  she  inspired,  she  promised  her  young  tenant  to 
care  for  him  as  for  a  son,  and  to  lavish  a  thousand  attentions 
upon  him.  With  this  bright  prospect  in  the  future,  the  student, 
tired,  jaded,  and  worn  out,  retired  to  rest,  and  the  night  was  so 
unpleasantly  spent  that  the  next  morning  he  talked  of  returning 
to  France.  The  joke,  however,  was  not  carried  so  far.  The 
young  artist  returned  to  the  Academy,  took  possession  of  his 


74 


ROME   OP   TO-DAY. 


proper  room,  and  did  not  lose  liis  time  there.  But  who  knows 
whether  subsequently,  when  the  author  of  ''  La  Juive"  wrote 
that  beautiful  composition  of  world-wide  celebrity  and  deseiTed 
the  reputation,  the  reminiscences  of  his  first  night  in  Ghetto 
were  not  present  to  his  mind. 

The  inhabitants  of  the   Ghetto,  as  I  have  said,  perfjrni  all 
their  avocations,  domestic  and  commercial,  in  the  street.     The 
reason,  perliaps,  is,  that  their  liouses  are  so  badly  kept  as  to  be 
scarcely  tolerable.     What  I  Jiave  seen  of  their  'interior  has  in- 
spired me  with  no  desire  to  penetrate  farther  into  their  noisome 
recesses.     I  content  myself  with  traversing  the  quarter  in  all 
directions,  and  informing  myself  as  to  the  habits,  and  customs  of 
the  people  in  various  ways.     During  the  week  I  watch  them 
buying  and  selling,  toiling  patiently  with  their  hands,  or  eating 
their  scanty  and  coarse  provisions.     The  vegetable  diet  to  which 
poverty  restricts  them,  joined  to  the  impurity  of  the  air  of  their 
vile,  filthy  homes,  impoverishes  their  blood  and  undermines  their 
health.     Although  so  near  the  Til>er,  they  are  less  subject  to 
fever  than  the  inhabitants  of  districts  more* elevated  in  situation, 
for  it  is  not  the  water  of  the  river,  but  the  miasmatic  exhalations 
of  the  marshy  country  borne  by  the  wind,  whi..'h  poison  the 
Eomans.      On  Saturday  my  poor  Jews  make  themselves  as 
handsome  as  they  can  in  their  best  apparel,  and  repair  to  the 
synagogues.     Yesterday  was  Sunday,  and  I  saw  them  transact 
their  business  until  three  or  four  in  the  afternoon,  when  sud- 
denly the  shops,  which  were  half  open,  were  closed  for  the  day, 
and  the  people  took  their  recreation. 

I  found  at  the  corner  of  every  street  a  table,  surrounded  by 
ten  or  a  dozen  persons  of  both  sexes,  with  a  pack  of  cards  in  the 
middle.  I  am  not  yet  wise  enough  to  penetrate  the  secret  mys- 
teriea  of  these  bohemian  cards,  with  which  the  lower  classes  of 
Spain  and  Italy  are  accustomed  to  beguile  their  leisure  hours. 
What  I  remarked  among  my  Hebrew  acquaint-inces  was,  that 
there  was  no  money  upon  the  tables,  and  that  they  quarreled  at 
almost  every  movement  of  the  cards. 

Once  I  thought  that  a  general  tumult  was  inevitable.  The 
quarrel  arose  about  an  ace  of  spades  or  a  seven  of  clubs,  I  could 
not  well  make  out  which.  One  of  the  players  flung  his'cards  at 
the  head  of  his  adversary.  The  other  retaliated  by  throwing 
the  chalk  used  for  marking  the  points.     The  women  threw  them- 


THE   GHETTO. 


75 


selves  between  the  combatants,  but  not  without  applying  their 
hands  vigorously  to  the  hair  of  each  other's  heads.  AU  the  street 
soon  mingled  in  the  strife,  each  taking  the  side  of  his  relatives, 
and,  in  an  instant,  the  neighboring  inhabitants  rushed  in  npon 
the  field  of  battle.  They  launched  volumes  of  invective  at 
one  another  in  a  paioiji  of  which  I  understood  nothing,  and  the 
Italians,  whom  the  noise  ha<l  drawn  to  the  spot,  evidently  did 
not  undersUmd  much.  Howevor,  all  was  quiet  at  the  end  of  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  and  I  le;uned  that  the  whole  tumult  had 
arisen  out  of  a  dispute  about  the  half  of  a  cent.  Do  not  laugh  at 
tlie  smallness  of  the  sum  ;  I  know  a  professor  of  the  mandoline, 
who  stabbed  his  best  friend  seventeen  times  in  the  course  of  a 
discussion  involving  fifty  centimes. 

I  retired  with  a  broken  head.  In  all  my  hfe  I  had  never  hoard 
such  a  noise,  except,  perhaps,  at  leaving  the  theater  at  Pera,  when 
the  population  of  the  streets  fell  to  biting  each  other,  and,  with 
horrid  yells,  gave  vent  to  their  terrific  rage. 

But  the  nocturnal  brawlers  of  Constantinople  are  not  men  I 
My  days'  work  was  to  be  completed  at  the  Trastevere,  the 
most  Roman  quarter  of  Rome.  The  inhabitants  beyond  the 
Tiber  are,  without  doubt,  tlie  most  manly,  the  boldest,  the  most 
sensitive  to  insult,  and  the  worthiest  of  the  city.  They  are  also 
the  handsomest,  and  their  general  aspect  is  the  most  picturesque. 
The  praises  they  have  received  are  not  excessive.  Intellectually, 
periiaps,  they  have  less  of  versatiUty  and  quickness  of  perception 
than  the  inhabitants  of  the  mountains,  but  the  latter  are  endowed 
with  less  loyalty  and  courage. 

I  lost  my  way,  and  instead  of  emerging  at  Ponte  Rotto  which 
would  have  conducted  me  into  the  heart  of  the  Trastevere,  I 
found  myself  in  the  midst  of  the  temples  and  tlie  storehouses 
filled  with  hay  which  surround  the  Bocca  della  Verita.  The 
storehouses  looked  extremely  well. 

A  long  line  of  forty  high-piled  wagons,  resembling  square 
mountains,  came  in  single  file.  They  were  drawn  by  oxen. 
The  last  team  bore  aloft  the  image  of  the  good  St.  Anthony, 
patron  of  animals.  I  never  saw  any  thing  more  healthy,  more 
beautiful,  and  more  fragrant  than  the  liay  from  the  Campagna 
di  Roma ;  for  there  are  few  moods  and  phases  of  our  Uves  when  • 
it  is  no  pleasure  to  meet  in  the  heart  of  a  busy  city  the  costumes 
and  the  perfume  of  the  quiet,  peaceful  country.     When  Rome 


76 


ROME    OF   TO-DAY. 


shall  no  longer  be  the  first  city  in  the  world,  she  will  still  be  the 
most  picturesque  villan^e  in  the  universe. 

This  Bocca  della  Veritu,  which  I  have  just  mentioned,  is  a 
curious  relic  of  the  IMiddle  Ages.  It  .was  regarded  with  super- 
stitious awe,  as  an  instrument  for  visiting  on  certain  classes  of 
evil  doers  the  just  judgments  of  God.  Figure  to  yourself  a  mill- 
stone, resembling,  not  a  human  face,  but  the  face  of  the  moon. 
As  you  look  closely,  the  eyes  are  distinguishable,  as  arc  also  the 
nose  and  the  open  mouth,  into  whica  an  accused  person  used 
to  place  liis  hand  to  take  an  oath.  The  mouth  closed  upon  the 
hand  if  the  declaration  was  false ;  at  least  so  runs  the  legend. 
Its  powers,  however,  are  no  more,  for  I  introduced  my  right 
hand,  saying  that  the  Ghetto  was  a  delightful  j)lace.  The  mouth, 
however,  was  immovable,  and  I  escaped  unhurt. 

Near  the  Bocca  della  Verita,  in  front  of  the  httle  temple  of 
Yesta,  and  not  far  from  the  Fortuna  Virile,  th6  sentence  of  death 
is  executed  by  the  Roman  authorities  upon  one  murderer  in  a 
hundred.  When  I  arrived  at  this  retired  spot,  tliey  were  nut 
executing  anybody,  but  six  cook-women,  one  of  whom  was  as 
divinely  beautiful  as  Juno,  were  dancing  the  Tarantula  to  the 
sound  of  a  tamborine.  Unfortunately,  they  discovered  that  I 
was  a  stranger,  and  set  themselves  to  polka,  contrary  to  the  music. 
On  this  I  fled  with  all  speed,  and  soon  found  the  bridge  of  which 
I  was  in  search. 


V. 


THE      TRASTEVERE. 

ri^IIE  Ponte  Rotto  is  an  ancient  work.  The  Tiber  has  carried 
J-  away  two-thirds  of  it.  Pius  IX.  has  repaired  it  tempora- 
rily. A  wooden  platform,  suspended  from  iron  wires,  connects 
it  with  the  left  bank.  We  can  stop  for  a  few  minutes  on  this 
trembling  plank  ;  the  view  is  at  least  as  fine  as  from  the  bridge 
of  the  Institute.  Up  the  river  the  sun  is  setting  behind  the  dome 
St.  Peter's.  Its  slanting  rays  glide  over  the  gilded  water  of  the 
stream.  The  Sacred  Island  stands  out  like  a  ship  between  the 
two  bridges  which  unite  it  with  the  city.  Formerly  it  had  the 
form  and  color  of  a  marble  galley,  but  its  trappiugs  have  gone,  I 
know  not  whither.  The  high  perched  houses  which  skirt  the 
Tiber  are  clothed  with  fig-trees  and  ivy,  or  encased  in  terraces 
of  lemon-trees  in  bloom.  In  the  other  direction,  looking  down 
the  stream,  you  see  the  enormous  opening  of  the  Cloaca  of  Tar- 
quin  ;  above,  the  pretty  dome  of  Vesta ;  and  still  higher  up,  the 
convents,  gardens,  and  vines,  which  crown  tlie  Aventine  HilL 
To  the  right  is  the  Trastevere,  of  which  you  shall  have  a  closer 
view,  if  you  do  me  the  honor  to  come  and  dine  with  me  there. 

You  need  fear  nothing ;  the  eating  will  not  be  so  bad,  and 
nobody  will  eat  us.  More  than  one  stroke  of  the  knife  will  pass 
in  the  course  of  the  morning,  seeing  that  to-day  is  Sunday,  but 
we  shall  enjoy  the  sight  without  incurring  any  danger.  You  are 
going  to  see  men  who  are  as  strong  as  bulls,  and  just  as  easily 
provoked,  who  give  a  blow  as  easily  as  you  would  drink  a  glass 
of  water,  and  never  give  one  but  the  hand  holds  a  blade.  The 
police  will  not  be  about  to  protect  us ;  it  is  always  absent.  Be- 
sides, if  you  offended  one  of  those  fellows,  he  would  kill  you  in 
the  very  arms  of  the  gensd'armes.     But  you  may  come,  and  go 


78 


KOME   OF   TO-DAY. 


among  them,  spend  much,  pay  in  gold,  clink  your  purse,  and  go 
out  after  midnight  into  the  best  extinguished  street,  and  the  idea 
will  not  occur  to  any  one  to  attack  your  money.     Better  ^till : 
they  will  welcome  us  politely,  and  crowd  together  to  make  room 
for  us.     They  will  not  look  at  us  like  curious  animals ;   they  will 
even  lend  themselves  obligingly  to  our  curiosity,  if  it  be  not 
impertinent.     We  need  not  fear  that  wine  will  excite  them  to 
pick  a  quarrel  with  us,  but  if  we  have  the  misfortune  to  provoke 
them,  then  look  out !     Wine  does  not  make  them  quarrelsome, 
but  it  does  make  them  easily  offended.     The  self-love  of  the 
tavern  does  not  forgive  even  an  unintentional  offense,  if  it  hap- 
pen to  expose  them  to  the  ridicule  of  their  companions.     When 
you  see  a  woman  with  her  husband,  or  a  girl  with  her  father, 
keep  your  eyes  in  check  I     It  is  often  unhealthy  to  look  the 
women  of  the  Trastevere  in  the  face,  and  I  could  mention  more 
than  one  curious  person  who  has  died  of  it.     Shall  we  go  in  ? 
You  hesitate  ?     In  that  case,  good-by  ;  I  shall  go  in  all  alone. 

Still,  not  without  first  reading  this  httle  notice  nailed  over  the 
door: 

"  Beloved  brethren,  keep  from  blasphemy,  and  reflect  : 

1.  That  God  sees  you  ; 

2.  That  God  will  judge  you  for  all  your  trorda,  and  especially  for  your  bias- 

phemies ; 

3.  That  God  is  ready  to  punish  i^ith  fire  that  tongue  which  was  given  yon  to 

bless,  and  not  to  insult  Ilim." 

The  notice  might  add,  without  falsehood,  that  in  this  lower 
world,  blasphemy  is  sometimes  more  severely  punished  than 
assassination.  In  a  village  in  the  neighborhood  of  Rome,  two 
peasants  forgot  themselves  upon  the  same  day.  One  hurled  a 
curse  at  the  Madonna,  the  other  poisoned  his  mother.  The 
tribunal  sent  them  both  to  the  galleys ;  but  the  parricide  has 
finished  his  time,  and  the  blasphemer  has  still  some  years  to 
serve. 

I  found  the  tavern  quite  full ;  it  is  one  of  the  best  frequented 
and  most  celebrated.  People  come  here  not  to  drink  merely,  as 
in  the  smaller  establishments  of  the  kind.  The  master  of  the 
house  prides  himself  on  his  cooking,  and  would  thrust  his  knife 
mto  the  stomach  of  the  man  who  accused  him  of  burning  his 
omelettes.  His  customers  are  chiefly  veturinos  and  artists: 
shoe-making  artLst.^,  metal-founding  artisL^  horse-shoeing  artists, 


THE   TRASTEVERE. 


19 


wool-spinning  artists.  There  are  no  workmen  at  Rome  who  do 
not  take  the  name  of  artist ;  accordingly  it  is  considered  as  an 
insult  by  paint<?rs  and  sculptors.  The  meanest  copier  of  pic- 
tures, the  shallowest  practitioner,  the  most  bunghng  fiddler, 
would  go  peifectly  red  with  vexation  if  you  told  him  he  was  a 
great  artist     "  Sir,"  he  would  say,  seriously,  ^'  I  am  a  profes- 

Bor  1 

One  day  recently  I  wanted  a  button  sewed  on  a  boot     I  sent 
for  the  wife  of  one  of  the  servants,  and  asked  her  if  she  was 

equal  to  the  task. 

"I  I"  she  replied,  bridling  up,  ''I  am  a  daughter  of  the  art; 

my  futlier  was  a  shoemaker!" 

The  artists  who  come  hero  on  Sunday  do  not  appear  here  dur- 
incr  the  week.  They  hide  in  thuir  squalid  lodgings,  where  they 
drink  water  and  munch  salad.  But  on  Sunday,  when  they  have 
saved  up  a  few  cents,  it  is  a  point  of  honor  to  show  themselves 
at  the  tavern,  and  prove  to  the  universe  that  they  spend  money. 
They  reason  in  nearly  the  same  way  as  the  small  fry  of  our 
Bour<=e  who  go  and  dine  once  a  week  at  the  dearest  restaurant 
on  the 'boulevards,  in  order  to  be  seen  as  they  go  m  and  out 

I  have  taken  a  seat  on  the  end  of  a  bench,  before  one  of  the 
large  and  massive  tables  that  surround  the  great  hall  The  tavern 
is  paved  like  the  street,  and  almost  as  badly  swept;  the  walls  are 
painted  like  canvas,  without  any  decoraUon.  The  kitx^hen  occu- 
pieg  one  of  the  ends  of  tlie  hall,  and  the  scullion  from  time  to 
time  carries  a  bundle  of  reeds  to  make  the  fire  blaze  under  the 
etove  Two  lamps,  with  a  pair  of  burners  eaen,  modestly 
illuminate  the  whole  enclosure ;  a  third  bm-ns  in  a  comer  before 

tlie  Madonna.  r  /in.     ^     c^Vf^r 

You  hear  but  litde  noise  in  this  assemblage  of  fifty  to  sixty 
pei^ous.  My  neiglibors  on  the  right  are  five  young  men  of  t^ie 
Lmc  age,  who  look  like  comrades  in  the  same  workshop.  The 
color  of  their  hands  and  sundry  cuts  on  them,  make  me  tlunk 
that  they  work  in  iron.  The  one  who  made  room  for  me  to  sit 
down  is  cerUinly  one  of  the  handsomest  men  to  be  met  with 
here.  Tall  and  weU  made,  the  face  long,  the  eye  moist,  the 
mouth  finely  sliaped,  Uie  Ups  red,  the  nose  hooked,  the  beard 
soft  as  the  down  of  a  black  swan,  he  looks  more  like  an  opera 
tenor  than  a  locksmith's  apprentice.  His  companions  are  not 
all  of  the  same  stuff;  and  I  see  right  in  front  of  me  a  buU-dog 


80 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


THE   TRASTEVERE. 


81 


face  which  does  not  much  suit  me ;  but  a  frank  and  quiet  cheer- 
fulness presides  over  tlieir  repast.  My  handsome  neighbor 
offered  me  his  glass  and  invited  me  to  drink ;  I  wet  my  lips  (to 
prove  that  I  knew  the  customs  of  the  Trastevere,  and  was  a  well- 
bred  man). 

The  neighboring  table,  on  my  left,  is  occupied  by  different 
groups,  which  I  can  indiflerently  distinguish,  the  light  being" 
doubtful,  and  near  of  kin  to  the  night.  I  see  plainly  two  play- 
ers seated  opposite  each  other ;  thoy  wear  the  dress  of  carters. 
There  is  some  money  on  the  game,  perhaps  three  crowns,  in 
small  change.  The  elder  of  the  adversaries  can  not  be  in  the 
vein,  for  he  throws  eveiy  card  upon  the  table  with  a  smashing 
blow.  The  other  wins  without  laughing  or  speaking,  aAd  drinks 
by  little  sips.  A  Httle  further  on  a  miller,  from  the  Tiber,  built 
like  the  Farnese  Hercules,  is  supping  freely,  with  his  wife  and 
daughter.  The  motlier  is  stout,  and  common-looking;  the 
daughter  beautiful,  and  white  as  Venus.  Her  black  hair,  fas- 
tened in  large  braids,  is  all  she  has  on  her  head.  The  girls  in 
Rome  wear  neither  cap  nor  bonnet ;  nature  lias  given  Uiem  a 
warm  winter  head-dress.  My  pretty  miller's  daugliter,  however, 
is  a  httle  overburdened  with  jewels ;  with  her  necklace  and  ear- 
rings alone  you  could  pay  the  taxes  of  the  republic  of  San  Mari- 
no. A  beautiful  lace  neckerchief  is  folded  across  her  breast ;  it 
is  the  fashion  in  the  Trastevere.  But  the  skirt  is  rather  more 
voluminous  than  is  reasonable.  Crinohne  is  coming  in  three 
boats  to  spoil  our  national  costume.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  see  how 
mother  and  daughter  empty  a  glass  of  wine  which  the  father  has 
filled  to  the  brim.  The  Romans,  when  they  depart  from  their 
sober  habits,  are  the  most  formidable  drinkers  in  all  Europe, 
and  there  are  few  Roman  women  who  can  not  keep  up  with  the 
men.  The  most  delicate  Trasteverine  girl  would  absorb  the  allow- 
ance of  twelve  sailors,  and  would  not  reel  on  leaving  the  table. 
It  is  true,  they  have  feet  I 

You  will  forgive  me,  if,  after  this  first  glance  on  all  sides  of  my 
plate,  my  attention  concentrated  itself  for  a  moment  on  the  sup- 
per which  had  been  served.  I  had  been  running  all  day,  had 
eaten  my  breakfast  off  my  thumb,  and  was  bound,  even  in  regard 
to  your  interests,  to  recruit  my  strength.  A  famished  stomach 
knows  neither  eyes  nor  ears,  and  a  fasting  observer  would  teach 
you  but  httle. 


They  served  me  •\vith  salad  first,  which  is  the  foundation  of  all 
Roman  suppers;  then  a  morsel  of  stewed  beef,  which  would 
make  your  mouth  water  if  I  could  throw  into  my  prose  a  little 
of  its  aroma  and  succulence.  A  leg  of  kid  came  next,  in  a  dish 
of  green  peix?.  The  entremets  consisted  of  a  small,  round,  white 
cheese,  fried  on  the  stove,  and  for  dessert  I  had  a  large  plateful 
of  really  exquisite  strawberries  from  Albano. 

That  is  how  you  sup  at  a  tavern  for  forty  cents.  It  is  true, 
that  at  the  hotels  and  pastry-cooks'  the  cookery  is  equally  dear 
and  detestable.  The  wine  of  Rome  is  nowhere  good,  but  the 
tavern  is  still  the  place  where  it  can  be  drunk  best.  It  is  a  kind 
of  claret,  limpid,  and  of  a  golden  color;  they  serve  it  in  bottles 
of  white  glas^,  light  as  a  breath,  and  frail  as  virtue. 

My  neighbors  on  my  right  finislied  their  supper  long  before  I 
did,  but  as  they  had  not  finished  drinking,  the  handsome  lock- 
smith proposed  a  passaiella.  It  is  a  forbidden  game,  but  in  Rome 
nothing  is  allowed,  and  everthing  is  done.  Each  of  the  guests 
gave  four  cents,  and  the  host  served  five  flagons  of  wine  in  the 
middle  of  the  table.  "  Pay  your  own  shot,"  is  a  Roman  maxim 
which  has  been  translated  into  French.  They  drew  lots  to  de- 
cide who  should  own  all  the  liquor  paid  for  in  common,  and 
which  of  the  five  companions  should  be  "  Master  of  the  wine." 
It  was  thus  the  ancient  Romans  played  at  dice  for  the  kingship 
of  the  repast.  But  in  the  modern  joint-stock  feasts  kingship 
often  degenerates  into  tyranny,  and  provokes  bloody  revolutions. 
The  master,  or  patron  of  the  wine,  was  my  neighbor,  the  hand- 
some locksmith.  The  privilege  of  his  rank  coiisisted,  firstly,  in 
quenching  his  own  thirst  entirely  before  giving  anything  to  the 
others,  and  secondly  in  choosing  a  minister  to  fill  now  one  glass, 
now  another,  always  at  the  pleasure  of  the  king,  and  never  with- 
out his  consent. 

It  seems  our  neighbor,  the  bull-dog,  did  not  stand  well  at 
court.  Twice  he  held  out  his  glass  to  ask  for  drink ;  twice  the 
minister  took  up  a  bottle  to  pour  out  wine  for  him ;  twice,  also, 
was  Prince  Charmaut  pleased  to  say,  "  He  shall  not  drink  ;  I  will 
drink.  Minister,  my  friend,  excellency  of  my  heart,  this  is  the 
glass  that  must  be  filled."  And  such  laughter !  The  bull-dog 
was  the  knight  of  the  sorrowful  countenance.  He  had  paid ; 
his  throat  was  itching ;  the  wine  passed  under  his  nose,  and  his 
friends  made  sport  of  him. 

4* 


lil 


82 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


THE   TRASTEVEEE. 


83 


The  wine  Wcas  soon  exhausted,  and  the  bull-do^,  who  had  his 
revenge  to  take,  himself  proposed  a  second  passalella.  "  Just  let 
me  be  master  of  the  wine!"  he  said  to  the  handsome  locksmith* 
"  yon  shall  see  if  I  give  you  a  drop  of  it."  ' 

"  Wliat  do  I  care  ?"  replied  the  other,  with  peals  of  lau-hter; 
''  you  see  very  well  I  am  not  thirsty."  Thirst  or  no  thirst,  chance 
favored  him  again,  and  the  distribution  of  tlie  wine  fell  to  his  lot 
a  second  time.  The  bull-dog,  half  in  jest,  half  in  earnest,  said  to 
him,  "  The  joke  has  gone  far  enough !  Ilere  have  I  paid  eight 
cents  out  of  my  own  pocket,  and  I  hope  you  \xi\\  allow  me°to 
drink."  "  We  must  be  satisfied  with  httle,"  said  my  handsome 
friend,  "and  sometimes  with  nothing.  Are  you  a  Christian, 
or  are  you  not?  Then  exercise  yourself  in  tlu;  virtue  of  pa- 
tience !" 

As  these  gentlemen  talked  very  loudly,  and  their  neighbors 
shouted  with  laughter,  the  attention  of  the  tavern  insensibly 
turned  toward  them.  '  The  pretty  miller's  daughter  cast  more 
than  one  glance  at  our  table,  without  asking  leave  of  her  parents. 
Our  eyes  met  two  or  three  times ;  I  even  luncy  she  smiled  frankly 
at  me,  with  the  freedom  of  manner  of  Italian  girls,  which  it  would 
be  a  great  mistake  to  interpret  into  harm. 

The  only  man  who  had  no  eye  for  the  passateUa  was  the  old 
player  at  the  next  table.     The  run  of  the  cards  was  apparently 
obstinate  against  him,  for,  after  five  or  six  times  impi-udently 
playing  double  or  quits,  he  had  staked  his  silver  watch,  to  lose 
every  thing  or  win  all  back.     Before  cutting  the  cards,  he  went 
and  knelt  down  before  the  Madonna  of  the  tavern,  and  entreated 
her  to  return  him  what  he  had  lost,  with  a  little  over ;  promising 
to  share  the  surplus  with  her,  and  to  offer  a  large  taper  at  the 
church  of  St.  Augustine.   Meanv/hile  his  adversary  crossed  himself 
discreetly,  and  nmttered,  without  rising  from  his  seat,  a  counter- 
prayer  to  the  same  Madonna.     The  game  was  closely  contested, 
and  1  followed  it  attentively.     The  old  carter  lost  it,  like  all  the 
rest.     He  rose  from  the  tiible,  thrust  his  hat  on  his  head,  and 
took  his  stand  before  the  image  which  he  had  just  adored.     I 
thought  he  was  going  to  insult  the  Madotma,  but  something 
restrained  liim,  and  he  let  the  whole  of  his  anger  fall  upon  the 
divine  child  which  she  carried  in  her  arms.     "  Miserable  Bam- 
bino !"  he  cried,  "  Judas  did  right  to  sell  you."     Thus  comforted, 
he  \\ent  out.     His  opponent  gathered  up  the  money  and  the 


wat^h ;  called  for  another  flagon  of  wine,  which  he  slowly  drank  ; 
examined  the  point  of  his  knife,  stopped  at  the  door  of  the 
tavern,  to  see  that  no  one  was  in  wait  for  him  outside,  and 

departed. 

A  third  passafdla  had  begun  on  my  right,  and  obstinate  fate 
ha<l  still  favored  my  handsome  neighbor.  The  bull-dog,  drunk 
with  thirst  and  spite,  said  coarse  things  ta  him,  of  which  he  made 
nothing  but  laughter.  He  answered  with  jokes  the  curses  of  his 
cnemy"^  which,  I  will  venture  to  say,  were  weighty.  Here  is  a 
specimen  of  the  litany  : 

'*  Dog-face !" 

"  The  guillotine  take  your  dead  !"  As  much  as  to  say,  may 
ycnr  ancestors  have  perished  by  the  hand  of  the  executioner! 

''May  you  die  of  a  cold  accident!"  Accident  simple  is  apo- 
plexy ;  the  cold  accident  is  the  stroke  of  a  knife. 

"  And  you,"  retorted  my  neighbor,  "  you'll  die  of  a  dry  acci- 

^\        dent !"  « 

(m  This  joke  excited  universal  merriment,  and  the  bull-dog  grew 

doublv  enraged. 

I  had  exchanged,  by  this  time,  so  many  looks  with  the  pretty 
miller's  daughter,  that  we  had  become,  in  spite  of  the  distance 
between  us,  a  pair  of  friends.  She  made  me  a  more  direct  advance 
by  sending  her  mother  to  ask  me  for  a  glass  of  water— there  was 
none  except  at  my  table.  I  hastened  to  offer  the  decanter,  and 
received  two  thanks  at  once.  The  young  girl  smiled  upon  me 
more  tenderly  than  ever,  and  the  father  looked  at  me  with  enor- 
mous eyes. 

Nearer  to  me,  the  bull-dog,  tired  of  affording  food  for  laughter, 
had  retired  grumbling.  My  other  neighbors  soon  followed  him, 
and  I  said  good-by  to  them;  not,  however,  without  offenng 
them  four  cigars  of  Roman  make,  a  trifle  insipid  to  the  taste,  but 
well  made  and  smoking  freely.  The  handsome  locksmith  oflered 
me  his  hand,  and  I  shook  it  heartily,  without  knowing  that  he 
had  not  two  minutes  longer  to  live. 

The  vacant  places  beside  me  were  immediately  occupied  by 
three  French  troopers,  slightly  fuddled.  They  were  making  a 
triumphal  round  of  the  taverns  of  the  Trastevere,  after  win- 
ning a  brilliant  victory  over  fourteen  soldiers  of  the  Pope.  These 
conquerors  emptied  a  flagon,  sang  a  snatch  of  a  song,  and  carried 
tlicir  glory  and  their  gayety  to  anoUier  theater.     They  were  sooa 


84 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


THE   TRASTtVEEE. 


85 


replaced  by  three  pontifical  soldiers,  who  boasted  of  having 
routed  fourteen  French  soldiers. 

I  now  observed  a  new-comer,  who  had  taken  his  seat  at  the 
adjoining  table,  lie  was  an  old  man,  full  sixty  years  of  age,  but 
hale  and  vigorous.  He  looked  at  the  company  without  speakinir, 
and  emptied  his  glass  to  the  bottom,  a' handkerchief  knotted 
round  his  leg,  and  a  spot  of  blood  which  came  through  it,  led  me 
to  suppose  that  he  was  wounded.  But,  as  his  physiognomy  did 
not  betoken  that  he  was  in  a  confidential  humor,  I  departed 
without  having  asked  liim  his  secret.  The  head  waiter  of  the 
tavern,  who  was  called  the  chief,  told  me  of  a  neighboring  tavern, 
where  poetry  and  music  were  occasionally  given.  "  I  go  there  " 
he  told  me,  "every  evening;  3^ou  will  find  nothing  better." 

I  was  soon  joined  by  the  miller  and  his  wife,  who  had  taken  • 
their  daughter  home.  The  miller  sat  in  front  of  me  a  few  tables 
off,  and  looked  at  me  steadily  with  the  air  of  saying,  "  You  shall 
not  be  my  son-in-laW|("  As  it  was  the  most  trifling  of  my  anx- 
ieties, I  quietly  emptied  the  glass  of  coffee  which  had  been 
brought  me. 

The  hail  was  neatly  paved,  and  hung  with  white  chintz,  with 
red  borders  at  every  comer.  The  furniture  consisted  of  straw- 
bottomed  chairs  and  marble  tables ;  the  small  silver  spoons  were 
of  antique  form,  and  of  notable  weight.  A  score  of  working- 
men  and  women  composed  the  entire  audience :  all  very  well- 
bred  people,  who  took  their  coffee  and  rosolio  in  quiet. 

My  arrival  had  not  interrupted  a  contest  of  virtuosi.  Every 
Sunday,  or  nearly  so,  a  few  amateurs  of  poetry  met  there  to 
improvise  verse.  They  are  matched  in  pairs,  and  dispute  in  turn 
on  a  given  subject,  like  Virgil's  shepherds.  The  usual  text  for 
their  improvisations  is  ancient  history  or  mythology.  I  do  not 
know  where  they  get  their  learning;  but  they  gallop  without 
stumbling  over  the  fields  of  fable  and  history,  from  chaos  to  the 
death  of  Xero.  If  you  examined  their  verses  too  scmpulously, 
you  would  perhaps  detect  some  anachronisms  in  details,  but 
poetry  covers  all  with  its  mantle  of  purple  and  gold.  Italian 
prosody  does  not  impose  very  severe  laws  :  and  rhymes  are  easy 
to  find  in  a  language  in  which  one  half  of  ihe  words  ends  in  o, 
and  the  other  half  in  a.  But  what  most  of  all  astonished  me  in 
these  trials  of  skill,  was  the  almost  invariably  happy  choice  of 
brilUant   expressions.     The  poetical   vocabulary,  very  different 


from  the  language  of  every-day  hfe,  has  been  preserved,  I  know 
not  how,  in  these  half-cultivated  minds.  A  shoemaker,  who 
could  hardly  read,  gave  us  the  "  Siege  of  Troy"  in  the  most 
pompous  and  florid  style.  A  mandoline,  discreetly  scratched, 
accompanied  the  voice  of  the  poet ;  for  the  verses  are  sung,  and 
not  spoken.  It  is  a  kind  of  rhythmical  recitative,  a  monotonous 
and  snoring  lyrical  declamation.  The  Romans  have  loud  voices, 
ringing,  and  almost  always  emphatic.  Not  a  syllable  of  their 
show-speeches  but  is  accented  by  the  national  pride.  It  is  a 
pleasure  to  hear  a  little  boy  singing  in  the  street — 


or. 


"Augustus,  Roman  Emperor;" 
"We're  colng  to  the  Capitol!'" 


The  tournament  lasted  nn  hour  and  a  half,  and  I  regretted 
having  neither  pen  nor  })cucil  to  take  down  a  few  verses  for  you 
in  short-hand.  The  applause  of  the  audience  was  the  reward  of 
the  conquerors ;  hisses  and  hooting  punished  the  defeated  one, 
as  soon  as  his  tongue  began  to  be  embarrassed.  The  shoemaker 
of  the  Trojan  War  kept  the  advantage  a  good  while,  but  he  was 
utterly  beaten  by  a  tanner  of  the  quarter  of  the  Eegola. 

All  seemed  over,  and  the  tanner  was  already  putting  on  his 
waistcoat  to  go  home  and  sleep  on  his  laurels,  when  a  woman 
rose  from  an  adjoining  table  and  placed  herself  before  him,  with 
her  fists  on  her  hips.  She  was,  without  exaggeration,  a  magnif- 
icent creature,  large,  tall,  and  handsome ;  pretty  nearly  such  as 
the  she-wolves  of  the  time  of  the  kings  are  represented.  I 
learned  that  she  was  a  washerwoman,  and  her  husband  a  glass- 
blower. 

"You  don't  understand  it  at  all,"  she  said;  "I  will  beat  the 
whole  of  you.  You  take  your  mandoline."  She  started  with 
the  origin'of  the  world,  and  advanced  with  steady  step  through 
the  history  of  the  gods.  The  woman  knew  her  mythology  like 
Ilesiod  himself.  Presently  she  entered  boldly  on  the  Trojan 
War ;  saved  ^Eneas  from  the  flames ;  brought  him  to  the  coun- 
try of  the  Latins ;  thrashed  Turnus  and  the  rest ;  jumped  with 
one  bound  to  the  birth  of  Romulus;  expelled  tlie  kings  with 
Lucretia ;  led  the  armies  of  the  Republic  to  the  conquest  of  the 
world;  unraveled  the  chaos  of  the  Civil  Wars;  applauded 
Cicero;  killed  Caesar  at  the  foot  of  Pompey's  statue;  placed 
Augustus  on  the  tlu-one ;  upset  the  emperors  one  after  the  other 


86 


KOME    OF   TO-DAY 


like  a  house  of  cards ;  and  finished  with  a  direct  invocation  of 
the  Madonna,  who  was  smiling  upon  her  behind  a  lamp,  with  a 
child  in  her  arms. 

She  went  straight  on,  occasionally  correcting  herself;  never 
stopping;  replacing  one  word  by  another;  repeating  any  por- 
tion that  Avas  applauded;  and  correcting  it  without  thinkin^r  of 
It.  Her  eyes  shone  like  those  of  a  pythoness;  her  voice  trem- 
bled with  pleasure;  her  simple  and  somewhat  too  regular  action 
scanned  the  verse,  and  dwelt  on  the  end  of  the  sentence.  She 
was  applauded  as  they  know  how  to  applaud  here.  Neither  the 
shoemaker  nor  the  tanner  undertook  to  reply  to  her  and  she 
returned  all  blushing  to  her  husband,  who  l.-id  in  the  meantime 
held  the  child. 

I  gave  myself  up  to  the  pleasure  of  clapi)ing  my  hands,  as  at 
a  first  representation,  when  I  noticed  that  the  miller  bore  me 
mahce.     For  what  ?     I  do  not  know,  for  I  had  done  nothing  to 
ofiend  Inm.     Perhaps  his  neighbors  at  the  tavern  had  joked  him 
about  tlie  borrowing  of  my  decanter;  but,  in  any  case,  il^  there 
bad  been  any  miprudence  committed,  it  was  none  of  my  doinrr 
However,  he  grumbled  between  his  teetli  all  kinds  of  liarsit 
sounding  reflections  about  people  wlio  ought  to  stay  at  liome 
and  mmd  their  own  business.     The  less  attention  I  seemed  to 
pay  to  his  talk,  the  more  he  raised  his  voice  ;  he  was  capable  of 
treating  me  still  worse,  if  I  had  looked  likely  to  turn  my  back  to 
him.     I  resolved,  therefore,  to  attack  him  in  front;  and  it  needed 
no  great  courage  to  do  so.     It  is  known,  in  all  countries  of  the 
world,  that  a  dog  which  barks  does  not  bite.     I  rose  abruptly 
just  at  the  moment  when  he  had  uttered  the  word  "French- 
man,   and  placed  myself  before  his  table. 

"  Is  it  with  me  you  are  angry  ?"  said  I. 

He  remained  a  moment  disconcerted  before  answering'  me 

II  No  ;  I  am  angry  with  nobody.     You  are  mistaken." 
Then  at  whom  are  you  grumbling?" 

"At  my  wife.  She's  a  good-for-"iiothing,  intriguing  go-be- 
tween ;  and  I  '11  beat  her  well  when  I  get  home  " 

To  this  I  had  nothing  to  say.  If  a  "coal-heaver  is  master  in 
his  own  house,  a  miller  may  beat  his  wife  and  his  ass  when  the 
fancy  takes  him. 

About  half  past  ten,  the  chief,  who  had  waited  on  me  at  dirf- 
ner,  came  and  took  a  seat  beside  me,  dressed  Hke  a  gentleman. 


THE   TRASTEVERE. 


87 


"  Well,"  said  I ;  "so  the  day  is  over  ?" 

He  answered  me  in  a  half  whisper : 

*'  Yes,  cavalier ;  and  badly  enough  for  me  ;  I  am  much  afraid." 

"  How  so  ?" 

"  I  ought  not,  perhaps,  to  tell  you  the  story,  but  you  are  a 
witness  that  I  took  no  part  in  the  quarrel ;  and,  as  you  are  a 
Frenchman,  you  may  be  able  to  get  me  out  of  the  affair." 

"  What  the  deuce  has  happened  to  you  ?" 

"  Did  you  notice  that  old  man  wlio  had  a  handkerchief  tied 
round  his  lee:?" 

"  Yes  ;  a  wounded  man." 

*'  He  was  not  wounded ;  that  was  the  blood  of  the  young 
man.  lie  had  carried  him  home  in  his  arms,  and  returned  to 
watch  for  the  other." 

"What  other?" 

"  The  murderer,  to  be  sure ;  the  man  who  had  killed  his 
son  I" 

"  What  son  ?" 

"  The  one  that  dined  next  to  you ;  the  man  of  the  passa- 

iciia  r 

"  The  handsome  locksmith  ?" 

"  He  was  not  so  handsome.  Besides,  he  was  wrong.  Why 
refuse  to  let  a  friend  drink  when  he  has  paid  for  it  ?" 

"  But  it  is  impossible  !     He  has  not  been  killed  !" 

"  Right  in  front  of  our  door,  your  excellency,  the  moment  he 
went  out." 

"  But  his  friends  were  with  him ;  they  must  have  prevented 
the  crime." 

"  Every  one  for  himself  in  this  lower  world." 

"  How  is  it  we  heard  nothing  ?" 

"  There  is  never  any  more  noise  than  that.  The  young  man 
died ;  they  went  and  told  his  father ;  he  carried  the  body  to  his 
house,  and  then  came  back  and  sat  down  where  you  saw  him,  in 
hopes  the  other  would  return  to  our  place  ;  but  not  so  stupid  I 
What  vexes  me  is,  the  other  fellow  took  my  knife  to  give  bis 
BtAb." 

"  Why,  this  is  fiightful  I  Is  this  the  way  you  cut  each  other's 
throats  in  your  quarter  ?" 

"  What  would  you  have  ?  When  a  friend  puts  an  affront  upon 
you,  you  are  not  going  to  amuse  yourself  by  prosecuting  him. 


88 


ROME   OP   TO-DAY. 


A  stroke  of  the  knife  in  the  stomach,  and  everything  is  said     If 

only  he  had  taken  some  other  knite  than  mine  I" 

"  So  you  pass  your  life  in  assiissinating  your  friends  ?" 

"  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  those  whom  we  don't  know. 

But  you  may  reckon  that  out  of  four  men  at  our  place,  there 

is  certainly  one  who  has  played  with  the  knife  once  in   his 

youth." 

"  And  how  about  yourself — come  ?" 

"  Oh  I  I  had  good  reason.  He  allowed  himself  to  shout  aloud 
that  our  wine  was  drugged,  and  that  we  were  poisoning  people. 
What  would  you  have  done  in  my  j^ace  ?" 

I  returned  to  the  road  of  the  Academy,  and  at  the  turn  of  the 
street  came  upon  a  group  of  children,  kneeling  before  a  holy 
image.  They  were  singing  in  unison,  with  clear,  and  tolerably 
true  voices — 

"  Long  live  Mary, 
And  He  who  created  her !" 


'm?mZ'' 


VI. 


THE    GAME    OF    KNIVES.* 


IF  the  Roman  knives  had  never'  left  Rome,  I  should  have  said 
enough  already  about  this  local  curiosity.  But  in  the  existing 
stAte  of  society,  when  Italian  refugees  abound  in  several  coun- 
tries, and  their  knives  stiiin  with  blood  the  inns  of  London  as 
well  as  the  taverns  of  Constantinople,  I  conceive  I  am  acting  as 
a  good  citizen  of  Europe  in  treating  seriously  a  question  of  Eu- 
ropean security. 

Before  saying  any  thing  else,  even  though  people  in  France 
should  be  astonished  at  it,  I  will  begin  by  paying  a  compliment 
to  the  assassins  of  this  country  :  they  are  not  thieves.  In  almost 
all  the  great  cities  of  my  acquaintance,  out  of  ten  assassinations 
committed,  six  have  theft  for  their  object.  A  man  is  killed  for 
his  money  as  a  fox  is  killed  for  his  skin.  The  Romans  hold  theft 
in  sovereign  contempt.  Their  somewhat  blunted  delicacy  does 
not  cry  shame  on  a  clever  swindle  or  a  public  peculation ;  but 
theft,  properly  so-called,  disgusts  them.  Try  calling  '•  stop  thief!" 
in  the  streets  of  the  city.  If  an  inhabitant  of  the  quarter  of  the 
Hills  (there  are  plenty  of  them  not  good  for  much)  amuses  him- 
self by  stealing  a  tenpenny  handkerchief,  the  crowd  will  run  him 
down  with  incredible  indignation.  But  how  if  he  had  killed  his 
man  before  committing  the  theft  1  They  would  knock  him  down 
on  the  spot ;  do  not  doubt  it  for  a  second. 

I  have  before  me  a  list  of  two  hundred  and  forty-eight  assas- 
sinations committed  in  the  city  from  1850  to  1852.  Of  this  mul- 
titude of  crimes,  there  are  just  two  which  are  explained  by  theft. 

•  This  chapt.  r,  entirely  innpplicaiae  now,  was  written  a  few  months  after  the 
attsiUcU  of  the  14th  of  January,  1S5S.  I  preserve  It  here  for  the  curious  and  au- 
thentic details  which  are  related  in  it.  But  every  one  knows  that  all  ItAlians 
worthy  of  the  name  quitted  the  knife  a  year  ago  for  the  sword. 


90 


ROME  OF  TO-DAY. 


THE  GAME  OF  KNIVES. 


91 


The  rest  resulted  from  discussions  of  vanity  or  interest,  rivalries 
in  love,  quarrels  over  play,  insnltin.?  language  exchanged  after 
drinking.  Wildness  of  the  blood,  of  wine,  and  of  spring,  caused 
nine-tenths  of  the  mischief 

In  the  majority  of  cases  which  occasioned  these  blows  with  a 
knife,  a  Frenchman  would  have  given  a  blow  with  the  fist,  a 
challenge,  or  a  summons  to  appear  in  a  law  court.  Neither  blows 
with  the  fist,  nor  duels,  nor  lawsuits  please  the  people  of  Rome. 
Elows  with  the  fist  do  not  mark  with  sufficient  distinctness  the 
superiority  of  the  conqueror;  a  duel  is  risky  for  the  man  who  is 
in  the  right;  and  the  length  of  the  proceedin.g^,  and  the  venality 
of  almost  all  the  judges,  inspire  the  citizens  with  a  horror  of  law- 
suits. Every  thing  is  settled  by  the  knife,  even  family  affairs. 
I  find,  on  the  same  page,  a  brother  stabbed  by  his  brother,  a 
brother-in-law  by  liis  brother-in-law,  two  sons-in-law  by  their 
fathers-in-law,  and  a  nephew  by  his  uncle.  An  uncle  of  the 
Oymnase  would  have  been  satisfied  with  saying,  "  My  rascally 
nephew!" 

In  1853  the  tribunals  of  the  Roman  States  punished  six  hun- 
dred and  nine  crimes  against  property,  and  one  thousand  three 
hundred  and  forty-four  against  the  person.  In  the  same  year, 
the  assizes  in  France  adjudicated  upon  three  thousand  seven  hun- 
dred and  nineteen  men  accused  of  theft,  and  one  thousand  nine 
hundred  and  twenty-one  charged  with  crimes  against  the  per- 
son. It  might  be  concluded  from  these  statistics  that  the  Romans 
are  more  violent  and  more  honest  than  we  are. 

Do  you  want  fresh  fruit  ?  Here  is  the  work  of  six  days, 
towards  the  end  of  the  month  of  April,  1858.  You  will  see  that 
the  spring  makes  itself  felt  in  Italy. 

"  At  tlie  Serristori  barracks,  ^laurigi,  a  voltigeur,  killed,  with 
the  stab  of  a  knife,  Caponia,  a  grenadier.     Gaming  quarrel. 

"  Some  persons  performed  an  absurd  serenade  under  the  win- 
dows of  an  old  man  named  Ferri,  who  was  just  married  for  the 
third  time.  With  a  stone  he  knocked  down  one  of  tlie  per- 
formers named  Eeruardini. 

"Bravetti,  #  vine-dresser,  was  killed  by  a  blow  with  a  pick-ax. 
by  a  green  grocer,  whom  he  accused  of  stealing  asparagus  from' 
liis  vinevard. 

"  Some  young  men,  who  had  passed  the  day  at  a  tavern,  cross 
the  street  of  the  Mascaron.     A  discussion  arises,  and  one  of  these 


gentlemen  goes  into  a  baker's  shop,  seizes  a  knife,  and  stabs,  with 
thrje  mortal  blows,  Vaccari,  a  man  of  twenty-one  years  of  age. 
He  then  goes  to  the  house  of  Vaccari's  father,  and  kills  him,  as 
a  precautionary  measure ! 

"  Carolina  Paniccia,  and  Giovanni,  her  husband,  were  going 
out  of  a  tavern  after  supper,  when  they  were  attacked  with  the 
knife  by  one  Pierazzi.  The  woman  was  wounded,  the  husband 
died.  Pierazzi  was  in  love  with  the  woman,  and  jealous  of  her 
husband. 

"  The  young  Alphonso  Ambrogioni,  aged  thirteen,  killed  his 
sister-in-law  by  cutting  the  carotid  artery.  The  Ambrogioni 
family  bore  a  grudge  against  this  young  woman,  because  one  of 
them,  Pietro  Ambrogioni,  had  been  compelled  to  marry  her  after 
seducing  her." 

It  may  be  said,  without  paradox,  that  out  of  ten  assassins  at 
Rome,  there  is  at  least  one  who  would  not  have  committed  mur- 
der, if  he  had  any  other  way  of  getting  justice  done  him.  But 
money,  credit,  and  patronage  are  things  so  difficult  to  surmount, 
that  a  poor  man,  insulted  in  his  honor,  or  injured  in  his  rights, 
addresses  himself  to  nothing  but  the  knife. 

I  am  not  afraid  to  affirm,  while  I  am  on  the  subject,  that  seven 
or  eight  murderers  out  of  ten  would  be  careful  not  to  draw  their 
knives,  if  they  knew  beforehand  that  an  executioner  would  cut 
off  their  heads.  But  they  are  almost  as  certain  of  immunity  as 
they  would  be  of  punishment  in  France  or  England. 

Almost  all  the  police  reports  which  I  have  just  quoted,  end 
miiformly  with  the  stereotypcfl  phrase,  "  The  culprit  escaped  by 
fiiirht."  The  people,  instead  of  pursuing  them,  lend  them  its 
aid.  In  its  eyes  the  assassin  is  in  the  right,  and  the  victim  in 
the  wrong.  Our  plebeian  Romans  have  no  more  contempt  for 
nn  assassin  than  the  Parisians  have  for  a  man  who  has  fairly 
killed  his  adversary  in  a  duel.  And,  in  fact,  assassination  as 
practiced  here  is  a  real  duel.  When,  in  the  heat  of  discussion, 
men  have  come  to  use  certain  word.^,  they  know  that  blood  must 
flow  between  them  ;  war  is  implicitly  declared ;  the  whole  city  is 
the  field  of  battle  selected;  the  mob  is  the  second  accepted  on 
both  sides,  and  the  two  combatants  know  that  they  must  be  on 
their  guard  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night.  The  common 
people  therefore  believe,  and  it  is  not  a  prejudice  that  is  easy  to 
uproot,  that  the  mui^erer  is  a  just  person. 


92 


ROME  OF  TO-DAY. 


THE  GAME  OF  KNIVES. 


93 


They  prefect  his  flight.     Wiere  does  he  go  for  refuge  ?    Not 
very  far.     The   city   is  full   of  asylums.      The   embassies,  tiie 
Academy  of  France,  the  churches,  the  convents,  the  Tiber,  are 
so  many  sanctuaries  into  which  the  law  does  not  penetrate.      If 
a  man,  when   pursued,  threatens  to  commit  suicide,  the  police 
are  bound  to  let  him  escape ;  that  is  why  the  Tiber  is  an  invio- 
lable  asylum.     They  are  afraid  lest  the  accused  should  throw 
himself  into  the  water,  and  die  unconfessed.     He  who  contrives 
to  clutch  the  gown  of  a  monk  is  in  safety,  as  if  he  embraced  the 
horns  of  the  altar.     The  gensd'armes  follow  the  monk,  and  cry  in 
tones  of  entreaty,  "Dear  little  brother!  (fratnceUo  / )  loose  him, 
he  is  an  assassin!"     "I  can  not,"  answers  the  monk,  '-he  will 
not  go  away  1"     And  thus  the  stabber  reaches  the  door  of  the 
convent. 

Some  troopers  of  the  division  of  occupation  meet  on  the  Ponte 
Molle  road  a  malefactor  tracked  by  the  police ;  thoy  go  in  pur- 
suit of  him  at  full  speed ;  the  man  runs  to  the  Tiber,  and,  by 
way  of  playing  a  trick  on  the  French  army,  drowns'  himself. 
That  made  a  great  disturbance,  and  I  believe  diplomacy  was 
somewhat  concerned  in  it.  Our  soldiers  ought  not  to  have  put  a 
man  in  a  position  to  die  unconfessed. 

The  possessor  of  a  place  of  asylum  is  free  to  receive  or  to  reject 
the  guilty.  I  know  that  at  the  Academy  of  France,  fur  instance, 
U.  Schnetz  makes  careful  iuvastigation  about  the  guests  who 
thrust  themselves  upon  him.  Let  there  come  a  poor  f«.«llow, 
threatened  with  the  galleys  for  bringing  a  girl  into  trouble,  and 
the  door  will  open  wide  for  him.  But  I  have  seen  them  ciosed 
in  the  face  of  a  rascal  who  gayly  accused  himself  of  a  peccadillo 
(una  cosetta)  against  nature. 

Between  Velletri  and  the  sea  are  ten  leagues  of  country,  which 
are  a  sort  of  asylum.  This  vast  district,  which  is  called  the  Dead 
Plain,  is  well  known  for  its  unhealthiness.  It  is  known  that  the 
murderers  will  not  live  there  long;  it  is  known,  moreover,  that 
the  innocent  would  not  consent  to  render  such  a  country  whole- 
some by  their  presence.  The  guilty  remain  there  unpunished, 
anil  occupied  on  public  works,  until  fever  does  for  them  the 
work  of  the  executioner. 

Frequently  the  assassin  is  snatched  from  the  law  by  the  crime 
of  another  assassin.  A  girl  falls  under  the  knife  at  four  in  the 
aaornoon ;  the  body  or  her  murderer  is  pickc^l  up  before  night. 


»f 


■I 


The  crime  was  already  expiated  when  justice  became  aware  of 
it.  Accordingly  it  sometimes  happens  that  the  guilty  man  gives 
liimself  up  in  order  to  escape  pri\ate  vengeance,  and  prefers  a 
prL<«on  to  all  other  places  of  asylum. 

AMien  justice  does  get  hold  of  him  another  series  of  difficulties 
at  once^  begins.  No  witnesses  can  be  found  to  testify  against 
him.  You  might  raise  the  murdered  man  himself  from  the  dead, 
and  he  would  not  tell  the  name  of  his  murderer.  A  man  is 
picked  up  in  the  street,  disemboweled,  but  still  breathing. 
"  Who  put  you  into  that  condition  ?" 

'•No  one;  go  and  look  for  a  priest,  and  never  mind  the  rest." 
He  has  settled  his  accounts  with  his  friend,  and  now  thinks 
only  of  settling  them  with  God. 

One  man  poniards  another ;  the  one  starts  for  the  hulks,  the 
other  for  the  hospital.  When  the  one  is  liberated  and  the  other 
cured,  they  will  shake  hands  without  malice.  But  if  the  wounded 
man  had  owned  before  a  judge  that  he  had  received  a  wound, 
neither  the  assassin  nor  his  friends  would  allow  him  to  enjoy  his 
convalescence. 

The  refusal  to  testify  in  a  court  of  law  is  so  incurable  an  evil 
that  you  can  find  no  witnesses,  even  against  thieves.  Yet  I 
have  told  you  how  they  are  detested !  ^  Just  so  we  detested 
them  at  college,  and  just  so  we  made  it  a  point  of  honor  not  to 
denounce  them.  We  put  them  in  quarantine,  we  made  them 
run  the  gauntlet  amid  hard  blows  with  an  India-rubber  ball ; 
but  we  should  have  considered  ourselves  dishonored  if  we  had 
given  them  up  to  the  Schoolmaster.  The  Romans  are  children 
at  all  ages,  as  we  are  at  fifteen. 

Their  aversion  to  thieves  was  manifested  two  or  three  years 
ago,  when  one  was  beaten  in  the  Piazza  del  Popolo.  His  name 
was  Pietro  Bandi,  if  I  remember  rightly.  He  Ud  thrown  a 
public  festival  into  confusion,  in  order  to  fish  in  troubled  waters 
fur  a  few  purses  and  handkerchiefs.  His  speculation  cost  two  or 
three  persons  their  lives,  and  several  their  health.  The  judges 
condemned  him  to  receive  five-and-twenty  blows  with  a  raw- 
hi<le,  not  upon  the  soles  or  the  feet  The  crow<i  ran  to  his 
punLshment  as  if  to  a  diversion,  and  cried  at  every  blow,  "  Bravo ! 
Strike  hard  I"  Mastro  Titta,  carried  away  by  the  entliusiasm  of 
the  people,  added  a  twenty-sixth  blow  for  the  good  hand,  the 
Italian  name  fi^r  drink-mon**y. 


94 


ROME    OF   TO-DxVY. 


In  the  same  country,  among  the  same  people,  a  peasant  dis- 
covers that  his  pig  has  been  stolen.  He  divines  the  guilty  man, 
runs  to  his  house,  and  finds  the  animal  tied  before  the  door. 

"  Witnesses !"  he  exclaims  ;  "  Holy  Madonna,  send  me  wit- 
nesses !" 

By-and-by  a  man  passes ;  he  flies  at  his  throat. 

"  You  see  this  pig  ?" 

''  What  pig  ?"  says  the  other,  who  at  once  detected  an  odor  of 

testimony. 

"  By  all  the  saints,  you  're  not  blind !  there  is  a  pig  I" 

''■  No,  there 's  no  pig." 

"  You  don't  see  a  pig  there  before  that  door?" 

"  I  see  no  pig.     Good-by ;  I  am  off  to  my  business." 

The  plundered  man  stopped  ten  witnesses  one  after  the  other ; 
not  one  would  see  the  pig. 

''  Since  you  see  nothing,"  he  said  to  the  last,  "  I  am  going  to 
unfasten  this  cord,  and  take  it  home,  with  the  animal  hanging  at 
tlie  end  of  it." 

That  is  how  he  should  have  begun. 

The  Romans  themselves  own  that  the  penal  laws  have  only 
been  applied  among  them  under  the  French  rule.  During  that 
time  power  was  strong  enough  to  compel  witnesses  to  state  what 
they  had  seen,  and  to  reassure  them  as  to  the  consequences  of 
their  depositions. 

It  is  not  that  the  means  of  repressing  crime  are  wanting  to 
the  Pontifical  Government.  There  are  well-kept  prisons,  and 
hulks  in  good  condition.  The  celkilar  system  of  prison  existed 
at  the  hospice  of  St.  Michael  a  hundred  years  before  it  was 
invented  by  the  Americans.  The  guillotine  is  an  Italian  machine, 
dating  from  the  thirteenth  or  fourteenth  century.  But  almost 
all  the  Popes  have  handed  down  to  their  successors,  from  age  to 
age,  principles  of  gentleness  and  senile  indulgence,  which  some- 
what disarm  the  law.  Capital  punishments  have  always  been 
exceedingly  rare  in  these  States,  in  which  are  committed,  accord- 
ing to  the  statistics  of  1853,  more  than  four  nuirders  a  day.  It 
is  difficult  for  a  sovereign,  grown  ol*l  in  the  practice  of  a  min- 
istry of  peace,  to  enter  some  fine  morning  on  a  vigorous  war 
against  the  violence  of  his  subject?.  The  education  of  the  Roman 
commonalty  needs  remodeling.  Force  must  be  used  to  soften 
.those  brutal  natures,  which  the  slightest  contradiction  drives  to 


THE    GAME    OF    KNIVES. 


95 


the  most  furious  excesses.  They  nmst  be  taught  to  respect 
human  life  as  a  sacred  thing;  they  must,  for  their  own  soke  and 
that  of  all  Europe,  violently  modify  their  ideas  of  assassination. 
So  long  as  there  shall  be  in  the  civilized  world  a  kingdom  in 
which  they  think  no  more  of  killing  a  man  than  of  drinking  a 
glass  of  wine,  civilization  will  be  a  provisional  condition,  subject 
to  every  kind  of  accident. 

It  would  not  be  necessary  to  shed  rivers  of  blood  to  stop  defi- 
nitely this  game  of  knives.  Leo  XII.  did  not  decimate  his 
people  to  cure  the  plague  of  brigandage  ;  we  did  not  need  to 
depopulate  Corsica  in  order  to  suppress  its  banditti.  Similarly,  a 
few  blows  Avell  struck  would  suffice  here,  especially  if  struck  at 
the  right  time.  Even  the  noblest  animals  only  profit  by  correc- 
tion when  it  immediately  follows  the  fault ;  and  our  terrible 
Roman  plebeians  are  somewhat  in  the  condition  of  blood  horses 
and  pointers.  If  a  criminal  suit  could  be  disposed  of  out  of 
hand  if  the  expiation  followed  the  crime  at  the  distance  of  only 
a  few  days,  the  peopl<3  to  whom  everything  is  a  drama,  would 
not  be  present  at  a  bad  example  without  at  once  receiving  a 
good  lesson ;  but  when  a  guilty  man  is  executed  ten  years  after 
his  crime,  as  is  sometimes  the  case,  those  who  witness  tlie  exe- 
cution have  nothing  but  pity  for  the  head  that  falls.  They  fancy 
that  the  murderer  has  a  right  to  claim  prescriptive  custom,  and 
the  only  word  you  will  hear  circulating  among  the  crowd  is 
povereito  !  poor  fellow  I 

In  the  month  of  July,  1858,  General  Count  de  Noiie,  a  gal- 
lant man  if  ever  there  was  one,  and  a  devoted  partisan  of  the 
Pope's  authority,  stayed  for  a  few  weeks  at  Yiterbo.  In  one  of 
his  walks  he  heard  several  male  voices  singing  psalms  in  the 
town-prison.  These  choristers  were  twenty-two  men  condemned 
to  death,  who  had  been  waiting  several  years  for  the  hour  of 

execution. 

The  government  itself  makes  a  sort  of  conscientious  scruple 
about  putting  to  death  a  man  who  has  repented  and,  perhaps, 
reformed.  I  have  told  you  that  it  was  of  a  fatherly  kindness 
and  gentleness ;  I  shall  have  occasion  more  than  once  to  repeat 
the  same  eulogium.  A  Pope  can  not  forget  that  he  represents 
here  below  the  God  of  mercy.  The  holy  father,  whoever  he 
may  be,  has  always  a  horror  of  blood.  But  it  seems  to  me  just 
that  mercy  should  be  shown  first  to  those  who  are  a^<?assinat^d ; 


96 


ROME  OF  TO-DAY. 


THE  GAME  OF  KXIVES. 


97 


and  the  first  duty  of  those  who  have  a  horror  of  blood  is  to  ter- 
rify those  who  shed  it. 

Forty  years  ago,  the  murderer  of  a  priest  was  dismembered, 
hke  a  roasted  chicken,  on  the  Piazza  del  Popolo  *  I  do  not  ask 
for  a  return  to  those  ferocities  of  the  middle  ages.  The  legal 
suppression  of  a  man  is  in  itself  a  fact  sufficiently  tern  bio,  with- 
out being  attended  witli  such  monstrous  surroundings.  But  I 
can  not  have  it  removed  from  my  mind  that  examples  are  needed 
at  Rome  to  suppress  that  school  of  the  knife  which  is  establishing 
branches  everywhere. 

Meanwhile,  and  until  they  can  decide  upon  punishing  assas- 
sins, they  are  in  the  habit  of  sending  them  to  the  galleys.  I  do 
not  count  this  journey  among  the  number  of  punishments,*  for 
the  convicts  are  not  to  be  pitied.  Better  lodged,  better  clothed, 
and  better  fed  than  the  majority  of  the  common  people,  they 
work  just  as  much  as  they  please,  and  their  work  is  remunerated. 
Finally,  to  crown  all,  they  enjoy  universal  consideration.  I  do 
not  exaggerate  in  the  least;  the  convicts  are  well  thought  of. 
Not  only  are  they  pitied,  though  they  are  not  to  be  pitied — not 
only  do  people  stop  in  the  streets  of  Rome  to  give  them  money, 
but  the  hand  which  gives  them  alms  does  not  disdain  to  press 
their  hand.  Why  not  ?  The  penalty  can  not  be  more  shameful 
than  the  crime,  and  the  people  have  no  reason  for  despising,  after 


*  "  Ludovico  ascended  the  ladder  of  the  scaffold.  Mastro  Titta  takes  from 
beneath  his  red  coat  a  large,  pointed  stick,  and  examines  it  carcfuUv.  He  then 
plays  with  his  club  like  a  drum-major  with  his  long  silver-headed  cane.  Finally, 
he  grasps  it  firmly,  swings  it  twice  round  his  head,  and  strikes  the  condemned 
man  on  the  loft  temple. 

"  A  cry  of  horror  rises  from  the  crowd.  The  victim  falls  like  an  ox,  and  his 
body  begins  to  writhe  in  agony. 

"Mastro  Titta  casts  his  club  far  from  him  into  the  midst  of  the  crowd.  He 
falls  npon  his  victim  agsvin,  draws  a  long  butcher's  knifo,  and  cuts  his  throat. 
Then,  with  the  same  knifo,  he  makes  a  deep  incision  all  round  the  neck,  as  if  to 
mark  out  the  line,  and  cuts  off  the  head,  which  he  shows  to  the  people.  The 
blood  from  this  head  reddens  the  executioner,  while  two  jets  spring  from  the 
severed  neck  and  delu;;e  the  robe  of  the  priest.  You  think  it  i«*  finished  ? 
No.  Mastro  Titta  cuts  off  both  arms  at  the  shoulder,  both  legs  at  the  knee  of 
the  corpse,  and  picking  up  feet  and  hands,  arms,  legs,  head,  trunk,  he  throws  the 
whole  into  a  chest  below  the  scaffold. 

'•  A  year  afterward  there  died  at  the  hospital  of  Santo  Spirito  a  young  man 
of  good  family ;  he  confessed  that  it  was  he  who  had  killed  Mgr.  Trnietto,  to 
avenge  an  insxiltr —Petrucelli  dclla  Gattina,  "  Prclinu  de  la  quest.  Rom.  ch.  v. 
pp.  44  and  ib. 


the  sentence,  those  whom  they  almost  admired  after  the  assassin- 
ation. 

If,  in  spite  of  the  advantages  secured  to  them  by  law  and  cus- 
tom, they  come  to  be  weary  of  their  condition,  they  have  only 
to  say  so.  Liberty  will  be  given  to  them  one  day  or  another. 
The  penalty  of  hard  labor  for  life  is  pretty  easily  commuted. 
Twenty  years  of  the  galleys  are  soon  ended.  To  begin  with, 
the  year  is  but  eight  months  at  the  hulks  ;  and  then  reductions 
coming  one  after  the  other,  however  little  favoritism  may  have  to 
do  with  it,  the  assassin  one  day  sees  the  doors  open  to  him,  and 
he  returns,  half  glad,  half  sorry,  to  the  practice  of  an  honest  trade 
of  which  he  has  lost  the  habits. 

Do  not  fear  that  the  stain  of  his  past  life  will  mark  him  out  for 
the  contempt  of  the  world.  It  would  be  too  curious  if  a  liber- 
ated con\-ict  were  less  esteemed  than  a  convict  in  active  service. 
He  is  considered  a  little  less  interesting,  Uiat  is  all.  He  speaks 
of  his  labors  like  a  soldier  of  his  campaigns.  He  says,  with  a 
/       small  feehng  of  pride,  ''  When  I  was  yonder!" 

I  met,  recently,  at  Frascati,  an  excellent  specimen  of  a  peas- 
ant. The  good  man  was  traveling  gently,  gently,  on  his  asS, 
along  a  pretty  steep  road.  His  wife  followed  him  at  some  dis- 
tance, seeing  that  she  carried  a  chest  of  drawers  on  her  head. 
I  entered  into  conversation  with  this  model  husband,  and  his 
turn  of  mind  pleased  me. 

The  conversation  turned — I  do  not  know  how — upon  blows 
of  the  knife ;  for  several  days  they  had  been  running  in  my 
head. 

"  Sir,"  he  said  to  me,  "  for  six  years  now  our  village  festi- 
vals have  lost  half  their  pleasure.  During  the  days  when  there 
was  no  disease  of  the  grape-vines,  and  you  could  drink  as  much 
wine  as  you  wanted,  there  was  not  a  fair  held  at  which  there 
were  not  four  or  five  men  killed.  I  killed  many  a  one  when  I 
was  a  young  man,  but  now  old  age  has  come  and  my  chance  is 
over.  No  one  can  have  Uved  very  far  back  in  the  past  and  be 
much  in  the  present." 

"  And  you  were  never  punished  for  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  certainly !  I  passed  two  years  at  Civita  Vecchia. 
You  recall  to  me  the  happiest  days  of  my  life.  Oh,  the  galleys  ! 
But  you  were  never  sentenced  then  in  your  own  country,  your 
excellency  ?" 


THE    LOTTERY. 


99 


VII. 

THE     LOTTERY. 

THE  lottery  is  the  shortest  road  from  wretchedness  to  wealth. 
It  is  also  one  of  the  most  certain,  and  there  is  no  other  so 
direct.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  Romans  avoid  all  the  other 
ways,  and  crowd  into  this.  I  often  asked  myself  what  I  would 
do  to  benefit  myself,  if  I  were  one  of  these  plebeians  who  live 
day  after  day  in  the  streets  of  this  great  city.  Here,  at  the  out- 
set, is  a  career  open  to  all,  without  distinction  of  birth  or  for- 
tune— the  Church.  Nothing  is  more  democratic  at  the  base  than 
this  absolutist  government.  Every  intelligent  man  has  his  foot 
in  the  stirrup  from  the  moment  he  has  crossed  the  threshold  of 
the  seminary ;  he  is  in  a  situation  to  gain  everything.  I  say 
even  more  than  that ;  this  profession  is  the  only  one  where  vir- 
tue can  take  the  place  of  science ;  and  where  capacity  is  advan- 
tageously replaced  by  humility.  A  man  from  the  lowest  ranks 
of  the  people,  and  moderately  educated  only,  can  become  a 
monk,  priest,  general,  cardinal,  or  pope ;  walk  as  the  equals  of 
the  greatest  sovereign?,  and  give  precedence  to  its  envoys  over 
the  ambassadors  of  all  the  other  powers.  But  one  must  have 
talent;  we  have  none;  so  let  us  look  round  for  something  else. 
The  civil  service?  Its  places  are  still  sought  after  by  some 
poor  devils,  and  each  one  believes  that  he  has  talent  enough  to 
fillthem,  if  he  can  only  obtain  credit  enough  to  get  into  them. 
But  these  are  only  subordinate  offices  for  those  of  sm.all  means — 
like  me.  I  can  become  the  head  of  some  bureau  by  means  of 
patronage :  but  if  I  wish  to  ascend,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
change  my  cloth.  Do  we  pretend  to  the  dignity  of  re.jimentals  ? 
All  tlie  rabble  of  Rome  would  shout  with  laughter,  if  they  heard 
us  make  such  a  proposition.     We  are  going  to  have  a  %\hole 


4 

I 


chapter  about  this  further  on.     What  shall  we  do  then  ?    En- 
gage in  some  literary  pursuit?     Idiot!     The  legal  profession? 
medicine?     Plenty  of  hard  work  and  no  pay.     Teach?     Look 
at  your  clothing  my  poor  fellow !  your  coat  is  too  short,  at  least 
a  loot  and  a  half.     G-o  into  business?     You  can  get  a  living 
tliere,  at  any  rate.     Farm  ?     You  can  make  a  fortune  at  that,  if 
you  have  one  to  start  with.     But  the  immonse  majority  of  the 
citizens  of  Rome  have  the  capital  of  the  Wandering  Jew — five 
cents— in  tluMr  pocket^.     All  things  being  taken  into  considera- 
tion, they  act  as  the  old  woman  did,  of  whom  I  spoke  to  you 
the  other  day ;  they  go  without  their  dinners  and  buy  a  lottery- 
ticket.     Do  you  blame  them  for  it  ?     I  have  not  the  heart  to  do  it. 
Some  surly  travelers  have  inveighed  against  the   people  who 
play,  and  especially  against  the  government  that  gives  them  the 
means  of  gambling.     It  is  considered  wrong  that  any  power 
esteemed  in  the  world  should  speculate  upon  the  vices  of  its  sub- 
jects.    Let  me  refute  this  clamor.     It  is  not  at  Rome  alone,  but 
at  Xaples,  Florence,  and  Venice,  throughout  the  whole  breadth 
of  this  oppressed  land,  that  the  Italians  gamble  at  lotteries.     If 
there  were  no  offices  at  Rome,  the  Romans  would  gamble  at 
other  places,  and  the  diligences  from  Vienna,  Pisa,  Florence,  and 
Naples,  would  come  frieghted  with  nothing  but  tickets.     But  as 
it  is  a  recognized  fact,  that  at  this  unequal  game  the  banker 
always  wins,  the  suppression   of  the  pontifical  lotteries  would 
send  abroad  seven  or  eight  miUions  .1  year.     Such  is  very  nearly 
the  gross  amount  of  benefit  accruing  to  the   State;    but  the 
expenses  of  collection  support  so  many  small  officials,  that  the 
net  profit  never  exceeds  fifteen  hundred  thousand  francs.     The 
lotteries  are  therefore  very  poor  resources  to  the  government, 
and  a  very  great  comfort  to  the  people.     It  was  perfectly  proper 
for  us  to  abolish  them  at  Paris,  because  in  every  well-ordered 
State,  where  all  depends  on  labor,  the  government  is  bound  to 
instruct  its  citizens  to  depend  on  nothing  but  their  work.     It 
would  be  wrong  to  suppress  it  at  Rome,  because  this  people,  so 
lazy  and  demoralized,  sustained  in  its  misery  by  the  trust  in  luck, 
lives  upon  hope  and  its  imagination.     To  take  away  lotteries, 
would  be  to  remove  the  little  that  is  left  to  it. 

It  is  more  than  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  since  Clement 
XII.  introduced  tliis  habit  among  the  people  of  his  States,  and 
the  love  of  play  is  now  so  deeply  ingrafted  in  the  minds  of  the 


100 


KOiTE    OF   TO-DAY. 


people,  not  only  of  the  lower  classes,  but  of  those  of  rank,  eren 
of  those  in  high  position  in  the  Church,  that  they  buv  a  ticket  a3 
we  buy  a  cup  ot'  coffee.  In  this  point  you  will  remark  the  <;  :- 
ference  in  the  education  of  the  Italians  and  the  French.  I  wa3 
a  very  small  child  when  the  progress  of  public  opinion  ab<  I 

the  royal  lotteries ;  but  I  remember  that  it  was  spoken  of  as  a 
game  for  servants,  and  persons  of  the  better  class  <*^l 

themselves  in  order  to  get  their  tickets.     Here  the  first  : 
of  the  country  think  it  nothing  stranir^  to  tempt  fortune,  and 
elbow  dirty  masons  in  the  ticket  Ganiin<>  in  this  wav 

was  a  vice  with  us — here  ft  is  not  spoken  of  as  a  bad  habit,  and 
the  approval  of  the  Romans  is  just  as  much  based  on  reason  as 
our  blame  was  formerly. 

Perhaps  some  of  you  would  like  to  have  me  run  over,  in  a  few 
words,  the  theory  of  this  game,  which  the  archec'^-' -  alone 
knows  any  thing  about  in  France.  At  middav  on  Su,t-ruuv,  be- 
lore  the  Minister  of  Finance,  under  the  eyes  of  the  asse^  ' '  ' 
people,  a  o^mmission  presided  over  by  the  r —  ntative  oi  ilo 
pontifical  Minister  of  the  Treasury,  draws  ou;  i;ve  numbers  from 
a  wheel  which  contains  ninety.  Some  one  amon^"  the  inter- 
ested players  who  assist  at  the  drawing,  has  plaved  a  - 
number :  that  is,  he  has  bet  with  the  goverr  that  a  cxrr- 

tain  number  will  come  out  among  the  five,  h  uls  number  is 
drawn,  he  wins  thirteen  or  fourteen  times  his  st. '  '    - 

one  has  playe^i  a  doubie  ;  he  has  chosen  two  n  >.  and  t .  ^ 

that  both  will  come  out  of  the  wheel     A  :  ua^  bet  on  trip- 

kis,  by  c'  ■  ■'  "ee  nr.         ^ ;   he  can  win  more  than  f.vr> 

thousand  times  iiis  St..  .your 

other  combinations,  such  as  and  i. 

termined  :  It  is  sir         .:  to  teii  you,  t.  who  can 

foretell  three  of  the  five  numbers  which  w:ll  come  out  next  Sat- 
urday, can  buy  one  hundred  ■  ni  fran-.^  for  a  louL-.     Thi-. 
I  believe,  is  the  largest  prze  to  be  r  ... 
hea^                                and 
having  b^en                      <  -n.  uli  tli'» 
minds  to  .r>.v5s  what  ■ 
ofT 


ask 


.>r 


rr?^ 


;,"LV     -• 


io  not  exist. 

Th^ 

drawin  * 

le  out. 

r 

n    to 

exhaust 

■  "^^ 

la'v- 

e  of  all 

th* 

.4 

;►»  ♦^X 

-  ^ 

. 

-    . 

-    n 

"*  TQ 

the 

TUE  LOTTERY. 


101 


?         f 


I    • 


habit  of  coming  together;  it  is  more  than  six  months  since 
that  has  occurred,  and  so  they  are  bound  to  come  together  this 
time.  Others  seek  for  inspiration  along  the  walls  of  the  city, 
and  at  every  step  are  finding  triplets  ready  made  to  their  hands 
— .  ;.alked  there  by  some  amateur.  More  than  one  makes  a 
nenvaine  in  order  to  decide  the  luck-y  numbers.  He  who  has 
been  so  .  as  to  dream  of  a  dog  or  cat.  hastens  to  consult 

tTiC  dream-bo^jk.  where  all  the  things  seen  in  dreams  correspond 
to  numbers.  The  great,  the  one  inseparable  idea  of  all  Romans, 
of  both  sexes,  is  the  search  for  numbers.  Not  only  dreams  are 
translated  into  numbers,  but  all  happy  or  unlucky  events  lose 
their  real  signifit:}ance  to  pass  into  the  state  of  prophecy.  Such 
a  one  is  drowneti.  Goo<i!  Eighty-eight!  My  daughter  has 
irnt  a  fever.  Bravo !  eighteen,  twentv-eight,  fortv-eight !  A 
husband  has  come  back  to  his  house  at  an  unwelcome  time.  lie 
hears  the  S4>und  of  a  man's  voice  in  his  wife's  chamber.  Go*!  be 
praised  I  Ninety  !  lie  jaraps  down  the  staircase  four  steps  at  a 
time,  and  hurries  to  buy  Ids  ticket.  The  s«jn  of  a  coal-man  at 
Rome  fell  from  the  top  story  of  a  house,  and  injured  himself  se- 
verely. His  father,  before  calhng  a  surgeon,  made  up  a  triplet 
bv  the  acre  of  his  son.  the  hour  of  the  accident,  and  the  number 
fiity-six,  wh.ich  corresponded  to  the  height  of  the  fall  from  the 
window.  He  won — his  5«:n  diet],  and  more  than  one  father 
felt  jealous.  A  young  man  and  young  woman  asphyxiate*! 
themselves  together  in  a  house  on  the  Corso.  and  the  people 
stole  to  the  otT.ce  of  the  lottery  to  play  on  the  event  The  au- 
th'-  -  -  ■  -  are  c ' '  ^  '  to  ghui  up,  or  interdict  certain  numbers  upon 
wL.c:*  aii  the  vvor^-i  wi.^h  to  bet  at  the  same  time  :  for  instance, 
the  ages  of  the  two  lovers,  the  number  of  the  house,  and  the 
.'h.  At  Venice,  an  Austrian  soldier  threw  him- 
".-tower.  The  rabble  threw  themselves  upon 
ix:m  as  s<>»jn  as  tie  t  1  the  eround.  stole  the  number  of  his 


re 
in 
w 


of  his  ;  n,  and  ; 

to  find  the  n  . 
not  look  upon  t 
1.     At  I. 


was  .  two  ex 

woman  .  wed  m  t.  wd.     F.'^o.ti 

;•  to  him,  and  when  preventeti  from 
to  him  from  a  distance  with  s  .         .    . .   . 


edv  hands 

•   on  hLS  shirt.     There 

Iv  as  a  blc-sc- 

a  condemned  criminal 

.ers.     An  old 

time  to  time  she 

.-  near  by,  called 

Was  it  his 


102 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


n-other?    Not  at  all.     It  was  a  player  in  want  of  numbers.     At 
Sonmno,  where  ,t  was  once  the  custom  to  exl.ibit  the  heads 
of  those  decapuated,  m  iron  cages,  around  the  gate  of  the  vil 
lage,  the   old  female  gamblers  used  to  come  at  miduLd  t  ,^d 
pray  before  these  hideous  relic.     They  prayed,  but  with  to    a 
on  the  wateh,  and  the  attention  given  to  ever;  noise-tho  crow 
of  a  cock,  the  mewmg  of  a  cat,  the  barking  of  a  do.,  the  sound 
of  a  carnage  m  the  distance,  were  hoted  by  these  ha^  as  "o 
n^any  warnmgs  from  heaven.    It  was  thus  tlit  the  soothsaye;^ 
of  old  mtenrogated  the  will  of  the  gods  in  that  observatory  in  the 

at  hearmg  of  praymg  and  gambling  jumbled  to-ether  Reli 
g.on  .s  m,xed  up  with  all  the  acts  of  oir  life.  Thf  oman^i n 
this  fam,harsort  of  intercourse  with  the  Deity,  con^  it  „ 
very  natural  and  sin.ple  thing  to  try  to  intercH  Ilim  in  their 
bttle  pr.vate  afiairs.  An  exceedinglv  upright  eccIcTiaL  in- 
formed me  that  his  parishioners  had  offered  him  large  urns  of 
money  to  place  three  numbers  under  the  sacred  py.x  dnrin"  ,ho 
performance  of  mass.     Xo  reasoning  would  convufce  them'lhrt 

n  the  world  could  remove  from  their  minds  the  behef  that  the 
numbers  tlu.s  dedicated  to  God  would  be  the  first  to  come  lul 
a  the  next  drawu.g.     I  oIK..  amuse  myself  by  lookin.  over  tlL 
at  rae  .ve  mscnptions  wlu-ch  cover  the  walls  o.'the  lottLr^'m 
One  «  II  assure  you  that  the  drawing  will  be  a  perfectly  fair  one' 

wllt':",'t"™^"-     ^^-''--"-nouucrthatlwnne; 
w  1  be  Paul  wuhout  any  delay  ;  another  that  he  can  a.sk  for  any 
kind  of  money  he  wishes.     Here  is  a  distich  considered  lucky 
wh.h^o.up,es  a  prominent  poshion  in  the  midst  of  al,  t^ 

"A  little  c-ipital  will  win  a  large  fortune;  play,  and  see  if  the 
Madonna  wdl  not  assist  you."  m  ito  ii  me 

No  one  places  much  reliance  upon  the  Madonna  in  this  affair  • 
but  then  It  should  not  be  for-otten  thit  tl„>  \r,  k!  ""» /""'^ 
r,f(i.nTfr        •     1  f""*^" '"''t  the  Aladonna.m  the  eves 

of  the  Itahans,  is  the  most  potent  of  the  po«-ers  in  heaven  It 
.3  very  seldom  that  they  speak  of  God,  but  they  e^  upo"  tl  e 
Madonna  meessantly.     If  a  beggar  solicits  ahns,  and  tl^ey  "end 

to™ ;!:.'  H °"''r=  •'' "f' '' '^ "'"^ " ^''^ '"^ -^^•^^°- P- 

lecu  }ou!       He  replies  wit  1  a '' Thinl'  T-.^n  "     t  i        ,    , 

r^ii  ^  "iLJi  a      ixianiv  you.        1  overheanl   tho 

foUowmg  conversation  in  a  low  restaurant  of  the  Trastc^"re  : 


THE   LOTTERY. 


103 


J 


I 

9      I 


¥ 


"  Papa,  where  do  those  stranp^ers  come  from  ?" 

"  They  come  from  the  land  of  strangers." 

"  What  sort  of  a  country  is  it  ?" 
^    '*A  very  cold  one,  with  wooden  houses,  where  the  people  aro 
Ignorant,  but  have  lots  of  money." 

*' Do  they  believe  in  God?" 

"No." 

"Well,  at  least  they  beheve  in  the  Madonna?" 
"No." 

"What!  not  in  the  Madonna!" 

This  was  the  conversation  of  a   village    hotel-keeper,  who 
wanted  to  convert  a  young  Englishman  : 

"'  But  what  an  ass  you  are ;  don't  you  see  that  the  heavens 
the  earth,  you  yourself,  your  clothes,  the  bread  that  you  eat  all 
come  from  the  Madonna?    It  is  she  who  has  made  the  world 
and  one  must  be  more  ignorant  than  the  beasts  not  to  know  that 
fact. 

If  skepticism  ever  reigns  in  that  land,  it  will  deny  God  per- 
haps,  but   It  will   continue   to    burn   tapers   to   the   Madonna. 
\\  henever  a  man  is  about  to  die,  they  say,  "In  a  short  time  he 
^ylU  go  see  the  .Madonna."     All  the  sick  people  who  die  are  vie- 
tims  to  this  bugaboo :  all  those  who  recover  arc  only  indebted 
to  the  Madonna.     They  may  beat  down  the  price  of  the  medical 
attendance,  but  they  will  never  bargain  on  the  cost  of  the  wax 
for  tlie  Madonna  of  St.  Augustine.     She  is  the  most  worshiped 
of  all  those  that  are  prayed  to  in  the  whole  city.     All  the  pillars 
of  her  chapel  are  hung  over  with  ex  voto  ofTerings  of  gold  or  sil- 
ver.    Her  statue  is  borne  down  under  the  weight  of  the  load  of 
jewels;  she  has  caskets  of  gems  that  a  princess  might  envy. 
They  ttll  a  story  of  a  great  lady  who  offered  all  her  diamonds 
without  informing  her  husband,  who  went  and  complained  to 
the  Pope.     There  was  no  less  amount  in  question  than  a  lar-e 
lortune.     Tlie  Pope  gave  the  claimant  the  right  to  take  back  his 
property  on  the  sole  condition  that  he  should  go  and  get  it  him- 
self, on  some  Sunday,  at  the  close  of  the  mass.     The  diamonds 
remain  there  to  this  day.     The  Madonna  of  St.  Augustine  has  a 
bronze  foot  which  is  almost  literally  worn  out  by  the  kisses  of 
her  devotees,  so  that  it  is  obliged  to  be  renewed  from  time  to 
time.     Thousands  of  little  pictures,  suspended  round  her,  testify 
to  the  miracles  which  she  has  effected.     I  saw  there,  not  lon<> 


^'^^;^' 


104 


kom:e  op  to-day. 


THE  LOTTERY. 


105 


ago,  in  a  very  simple  frame,  Madame  Ristori  almost  demolished 
by  the  fall  of  a  slide  of  a  side-scene,  preserved  by  the  Madonna 
of  St.  Augustine.  I  don't  know  where  this  picture  has  gone  to, 
but  it  is  not  there  now.  If  the  Madonna  protected  Madame 
Ristori  on  some  evening  when  she  was  playing  comedy,  she 
ought  certainly  to  be  willing  occasionally  to  enrich  some  poor 
lottery-player. 

I  advise  all  strangere  who  have  the  time,  to  be  present  at 
one  of  the  drawings  in  Rome.  You  will  see  plenty  of  good 
faces,  and  hear  some  curious  remarks.  The  player  who  has  lost, 
blames  the  numbers  which  have  ruined  him. 

"  Do  you  know,  ^ir,  whether  they  have  drawn  number  thirty- 
seven  ?" 

"  Number  thirty-seven  is  very  much  wanted,  indeed  I  Upon 
my  word,  thirty-seven  is  not  a  bad  number  I  Don't  you  think 
that  it  would  be  a  hundred  times  more  just,  kind,  and  Christian- 
like to  draw  forty-two?     ^fy  fortune  will  be  made,  I  know." 

A  moment  before  tlie  drawing  takes  place,  all  the  crowd  is 
satisfied. 

"Crony,"  says  one,  "it's  a  lucky  day." 

"  You  are  going  to  see  sometliing  new  at  my  house,"  replies 
the  other. 

And  forthwith  both  fall  to  tearing  up  tlanr  tickets,  and  cursing 
their  luck.  They  charge  each  other  not  to  play  again,  and  im- 
mediately go  together  to  the  nearest  office  to  get  some  fresh 
numbers. 

I  met  the  servant  of  one  of  my  friends  there  once.  Ilis  face 
showed  me  at  once  that  he  had  not  won. 

"Sir,"  he  said  to  mo,  "my  triplet  isn't  out  yet;  but  they  are 
good  numbers." 

"  Let  me  see  them." 

"Here  they  are,  sir:  seventeen,  fifly-six,  eighty-two  I  Isn't 
that  a  good  combination  ?" 

I  didn't  understiind  in  what  any  one  set  could  be  better  than 
another,  and  the  servant  was  astonished  at  my  want  of  intelli- 
gence. "  "What !"  he  said,  "  you  who  have  studied  so  much, 
can't  appreciate  that  seventeen,  fifty-six,  and  eighty-two  make  a 
good  combination  !"  I  seriouj^ly  believe  that  by  dint  of  studying 
the  numbers,  they  end  by  seeing,  like  Pythagoras,  all  sorts  of 
things  which  are  not  there.     A  man  from  the  Trasteverc  said 


I        I 


¥ 


to  my  interrogator :  "  I  have  never  played  but  douhJeU,  for  I 
know  perfectly  well  that  a  triplet  woul.i  never  take  the  trouble 
to  come  out  for  such  a  poor  devil  as  I  am.  I  only  ask  to  win 
eight  crowns,  in  order  to  get  married,  and  the  Madonna  has 
always  refused  me.  We  shall  see  what  next  Saturday  will  brino- 
forth." 

There  were  a  good  many  Jews  round  us,  and  their  faces  looked 
long.  "  Do  you  know  why  ?"  said  one  of  my  neighbors  ;  "  it's 
because  only  high  numbers  have  come  out,  and  the  Jews  play 
only  low  ones."  Whenever  five  numbers  are  drawn  below 
thirty  there  is  a  ^C^ic  at  the  Ghetto.  Periiaps  the  Jews  think 
that  small  numbers  are  favorable  to  small  people. 

The  Romans  play  very  small  stakes,  for  which  reason  the  lot- 
tery has  never  ruined  any  one.   The  heavy  players  are  the  office 
keepers,  who  speculate  on  the  tickets.     They  gain,  from  the 
fact  that  the  office  closes  Thursday  night,  and  sometimes  twenty- 
four  hours  eariier  than  that,  whenever  Thursday  happens  upon  a 
fete  day.     As  the  public  can  not  patiently  wait  until  Saturday, 
without  trying  some  other  combination,  the  keeper  takes  some 
hundreds  of  tickets  on  his  own  account,  and  then  endeavors  to  sell 
them  at  a  profit.     Under  the  stimulus  of  his  private  interest  he 
uses  all  his  ingenuity  to  deck  out  the  office,  dnd  attract  the 
passers-by.     The  whole  front  of  Ins  house  is  decorated  with 
numbers  sure  to  win.     Here  is  the  lucky  triplet ;  here  a  doublet, 
dreamed  of  by  a  sick  man  ;  there  is  a  combination,  from  the  fig- 
ures seen  in  the  clouds  some  evening.     Often  the  single  number, 
the  doublet,  and  the  triplet  remain  on  his  hands ;  oflen  he  has 
occasion  to  feel  thankful  that  he  could  not  sell  them,  for  some  of 
them  happen  to  win.     If  he  happens  to  lose  two  or  three  times 
nnming,  and  bad  luck  attends  him,  he  just  clears  out,  after  hav- 
ing honestly  put  the  key  under  the  door.     The  strangers  who 
visit  Rome  commence  by  severely  condemning  the  lottery.     After 
a  short  time,  however,  the  spirit  of  tolerance  which  seems  to  fill 
the  air  gradually  enters  tlieir  brains ;  they  excuse  this  game  as 
being  philanthropic,  and  furnishing  the  poor  people  with  six  days 
of  hope  for  only  five  cents.     Shortly  after,  in  order  to  try  the 
system,  they  go  themselves  to  the  lottery  office,  being  careful, 
however,  not  to  let  themselves  be  seen.     Three  months  after- 
ward they  will  openly  try  for  some  lucky  combination ;  ^hey 
have  some  mathematical  theory  to  which  they  will  willinHy 

5* 


106 


KOME  OF  TO-DAY. 


THE  LOTTERY. 


107 


subscribe  their  names ;  they  give  lessons  to  some  new  comer?, 
praise  the  raorahty  of  the  game,  and  swear  that  it  is  unpardon- 
able in  a  man  not  to  leave  one  door  open  to  fortune. 

Every  summer,  without  interfering  with  the  regular  lottery, 
there  are  a  certain  number  of  other  lotteries  held,  called  tom- 
bolas. The  tombola  is  a  S()rt  of  a  loto,  played  in  the  open  air 
by  the  entire  population.  Every  one  is  furnished  with  a  card, 
upon  which  he  inscribes  such  numbers  as  he  considers  to  be 
lucky.  Priests  and  laymen,  rich  and  poor,  crowd  round  the 
office.  The  drawing  takes  place  in  that  beautiful  villa  which  the 
Prince  Borgheso  lends  so  graciously  to  the  Roman  people,  in 
which  they  can  walk  and  ride.  It  consists  of  an  immense  gar- 
den, thickly  filled  with  monuments  oC  all  kinds,  and  inhabited 
by  numbers  of  cattle,  who  browse  about  the  lawns.  What  do 
you  think  of  a  private  garden  where  there  are  fifty  thousand 
bundles  of  hay  made  every  year  ?  where  there  is  a  stone  hippo- 
drome twice  as  large  as  the  wooden  one  in  Paris — for  such  is 
the  place  for  holding  the  tombola.  All  the  inhabitants  of  the 
city  come  here  in  a  body ;  the  lame  and  the  paralytic  alone  are 
left  to  guard  the  houses. 

This  fete,  in  honor  of  sacred  gold,  is  as  solemnly  observed  and 
is  much  more  popular  than  many  others.  You  will  see  as  many 
Capuchins  there  as  at  any  of  the  most  attractive  processions. 
The  sun,  the  music,  the  toilets,  the  intense  excitement  of  those 
interested  in  the  results,  all  are  there.  But  suddenly  there  is  a 
lull.  Hark  !  the  first  number  is  about  to  be  drawn  ;  there  is  a 
perfect  silence.  Here  it  is !  Some  one  in  a  voice  of  thunder 
proclaims  it  aloud,  and  it  is  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  to  the 
very  end  of  the  amphitheater,  while  great  signs  are  held  up, 
upon  which  tlie  number  is  painted  so  as  to  be  seen  by  all  present. 
Everyone  takes  his  card  in  his  hand,  and  pricks  upon  it  the  num- 
bers as  they  come  out.  The  winners  of  the  first  triplet,  the  first 
quartette,  and  the  quintette  in  a  short  tiino  come  forward  and 
mount  the  stage  to  get  their  money,  saluted  by  a  tremendous 
braying  of  trumpets, 

Ksome  one,  confused  by  the  excitement,  is  deceived  and  claims 
the  prize  which  he  has  not  won,  he  is  driven  back  in  confusion 
to  his  seat  by  a  storm  of  hisses.  The  first  card  filled  out  wins 
the  tombola  and  a  thousand  crowns. 

The  gain  is  not  so  large  in  the  village  tombolas,  which  are 


/       • 


employed  more  to  adorn  the  common  country  fetes  than  for 
gambling,  the  prizes  being  only  for  a  hundred,  or  perhaps  fifty 
crowns,  but  then  the  winner  manifests  just  as  much  joy  and  the 
loser  just  as  much  envy.  Misfortune  to  him  who  ventures  to 
win  without  being  a  member  of  the  parish  !  For  he  stands  a 
good  chance  of  being  stoned  back  to  his  own  home,  and  of  find- 
ing that  his  money  has  cost  him  dear.  It  is  not  long  since  such 
a  bit  of  luck  happened,  in  a  village  of  the  Sabine,  to  a  country- 
man from  a  village  three  U'agucs  Anther  on.  The  winner  was  a 
middle-aged  man,  gentle,  patient,  quiet,  and  phlegmatic,  like  a 
Normand  from  the  country  de  Caux.  He  pocketed  the  money 
without  saying  a  word,  and  started  to  carry  it  home.  But  all 
the  youths  of  the  village  placed  themselves  in  his  way,  as  it  hap- 
pened, so  much  the  worse  for  them.  They  commenced  with 
jokes,  but  blows  ^'oou  followed.  The  poor  fellow  was  buffeted 
about  like  an  India  rubber  ball.  He  was  satisfied  to  get  off  with 
a  few  cuffs,  because  at  each  shock  he  heard  the  crowns  rattle  in 
his  pockets.  The  crowd  rendered  bold  by  his  unresisting  man- 
ner, grew  bolder  and  bolder,  until  at  last  the  unlucky  winner  of 
the  hundred  crowns  was  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  a  tavern. 
Even  here  the  people  followed  him,  shouting,  and  not  intermit- 
ting the  blows  from  their  fists,  which  still  rattled  about  his  ears. 
But  happening  to  come  across  a  pointed  knife  on  his  way,  the 
countryman,  but  a  moment  before  so  quiet  and  inoffensive, 
seized  it,  and  two  minutes  afterward  there  were  three  dead 
bodies  and  fourteen  wounded  people  in  the  parish.  The  winner 
escaped  and  left  those  parts,  a  little  richer,  but  much  less  inno- 
cent, than  when  he  entered  it.  The  following  night  he  didn't 
sleep  in  his  own  home,  but  directed  his  steps  towards  Velletri, 
and  wasted  all  his  hard-earned  money  among  the  gamblers  of 
the  Plaine  morte. 


THE    MIDDLE   CLASS. 


109 


VIII. 

THE    MIDDLE    CLASS. 

THOSE  who  are  called  the  bourgeois,  the  third  estate,  the 
middling  class,  are  the  real  foundation  for  all  the  modern 
nations.     The  conmion  people,  or  those  who  live  from  day  to 
day  by  manual  labor,  are  in  every  country  but  a  blind,  unreason- 
ing power.     Their  ignorance  and  their  poverty  expose  them  to 
be  led  astray  by  falsehoods  and  influenced  by  envy.     Every- 
where they  have  to  be  taken  into  consideration,  and  yet  I  do 
not  know  a  country  where  they  can  be  depended  upoTi.     It  is 
the  duty,  as  also  for  the  interest  of  a  good  government,  to  en- 
lighten them  by  a  preliminary  course  of  instruction  and  interest 
tliem  in  the  public  welfare  by  encouraging  them  to  lay  up  a 
httle  money.    On  one  hand  there  should  be  schools,  on  the  other 
institutions  to  encourage  economy  and  providence,  wdiich  will 
assist  the  common  people  in  acquiring  a  position  and  entering 
upon  the  rank  of  the  middle  class.     A  time  will  come,  I  feel 
sure,  when  there  will  be  no  more  plebeians,  for  every  man  will 
have  a  good  education  to  help  him  on,  and  a  little  fortune  for 
himself  in  the  future.     Those  nations  are  the  most  advanced 
where   the  plebeian  is  the  most  rapidly  absorbed  into  the  mid- 
dle class,  which  ought  to  include  them  all.      It  is  alreaily  draw- 
ing into  its  hands  the  aristocracy,  a  work  which  will  be  finished 
before   tlie  end  of  our  century.     Feudalism  has  been  of  great 
service  to  Europe,  but  its  days  are  over.     After  the  destruction 
of  the  Pwoman  empire  and  the  wild  irruption  of  tlie  barbarians, 
it  created  a  false  and  brutal  class,  but  one  presenting  distinguish- 
ing characteristics.     The  absolute  monarchy,  which  was  a  little 
better,  struck  a  severe  blow  at  its  integrity ;  it  not  only  subdued 
but  transformed  it.     Dating  from  the  sixteenth  century,  feud- 


I 


I 


alisra  changed  its  name,  and  was  called  nobility.  Tlie  gentleman 
is  still  above  the  retainer,  but  he  is  a  hundred  leagues  below  the 
kin^.  He  obeys  more  than  he  commands,  and  purchases  at  the 
pric°e  of  the  basest  humiliations  the  right  to  degrade  the  people. 
In  1793  the  people,  that  is  to  say,  the  middle  class,  cut  off  the 
hea<ls  of  the  monarchy  and  the  nobility,  and  proclanned  the 
I)rinciple  of  equality  of  all  men,  one  which  will  henceforth  be 
discussed,  controverted,  evaded,  but  never  abolished.  It  is  suf- 
ficient to-<lay  to  cast  your  eyes  over  the  aristocracy  of  France,  to 
see  how,  little  by  little,  it  is  being  amalgamated  with  the  middle 

olass. 

The  nol.le  families  who  surviveil  the  "  Reign  of  Tenor"  were 
robbed  of  tlieir  patrimony.    Tlie  restitution  made  by  Napoleon 
I    and  the  thousand  million  of  emigrants,  only  raised  them  for  a 
time.     The  code  of  civil  laws  which  does  not  recognize  the  right 
of  primogeniture,  prevents  the  ama.ssing  of  very  large  fortunes, 
by  dividing  tliem.     The  mouopolifs,  from  which  some  money 
mi-ht  be  gained  are  abolished,  public  offices  are  no  longer  given 
toV'-sons  of  good  birth  .alone,  but  to  those  of  merit,  or  who 
have  intrigued  for  them.     If  a  gentleman  in  1860  should  pride 
himself  upon  living  wiU.out  work,  like  his  fathers,  he  would  con- 
demn his  posterity  to  die  of  hunger.     Nevertheless  our  wants 
nmlliplv ;  luxury  increases  rapidly.   That  which  was  called  a  for- 
tune a  "hundred  years  ago,  would  to-day  hardly  be  considered  a 
respectable  living.     What  is  left  for  the  aristocracy  of  our  time  ? 
It  is  distinguishe.1  still  Irom  the  common  crowd  by  the  purity 
of  certain  characteristics,  the  elevation  of  certain  traits^  the  obsti- 
nacy of  some  prejudices;  but  it  ought,  in  spite  of  itself,  to  forget 
its  hercditory  contempt  for  labor,  commerce,  and  busmess,  and 
attend  to  tlie  occupations  of  the  middle  class. 

This  gradual  annexation  of  a  whole  people  by  the  most  intel- 
U^ent  .-md  industrious  class,  is  one  of  the  causes  of  our  greatness, 
Wast  recognized.  This  class  of  hourgcoi^,  whose  eccentricities 
and  follies  we  properly  ridicule,  whose  egotism  and  delusiveness 
we  condemn,  is  neverUieless  the  most  acUve  power  m  the  French 
nation.  The  nobili.y  was  decapitated  in  1793  with  no  grea  harm 
to  the  country.     If  the  revolution  of  1848,  as  for  a  time  was  feare^ 

had  cut  off  tiie  head  of  the  middle  class,  tl'^V'"",  .  k'^.    ^em^ 
end  of  us.    The  Roman  Empire,  so  solidly  founded  by  the  demo- 


110 


EOilE   OP  TO-DAY. 


THE   MIDDLE  CXASS. 


Ill 


cratic  despotism  of  the  Ctesars,  could  not  survive  the  destruction 
of  the  middle  class;  it  perished  for  want  of  the  bourgeois. 

Look  around  us;   Switzerland  and   Belgium,  made   free   at 
entirely  different  periods,  by  the  courage  of  a  few  of  the  bour- 
geois, now  form  two  small  but  energetic  States,  because  tlie  mid- 
dle class  prospers  and  increases.     A  rich  and  powerful  middle 
class  is  the  great  strength  of  England,  and  moves  that  enormous 
maohme  whose  arms  reach  around  the  world.     The  States  of 
Xorth  America— a  country  preeminently  of  the  middle  class- 
will  gradually  encroach  upon  South  America,  which  is  peopled 
only  by  masters  and  slaves.     Spain,  reduced  to  the  lowest  degree 
of  degradation  by  her  kings  and  priests,  has  recovered  with  mar- 
velous rapidity  since  she  has  had  a  middle  class.     Turkey  is  per- 
ishmg  for  want  of  a  middle  class.     Russia,  with  her  immense 
territory,  population,  and  resources  of  aU  kinds,  concentrated  in  a 
single  hand,  seems  to  threaten  Europe,  and  keeps  certain  poUti- 
cians  m  a  state  of  chronic  disquiet ;  but  there  is  notliing  to  fear 
from  her  for  fifty  years ;    for  at  least  half  a  century  will  be 
required  to  create  a  class  between  the  serfs  and  the  nobles.     la 
Italy  It  IS  the  middle  class  which  has  prepare<l  the  healthy  revo- 
lution in  which  we  are  now  assisting.     The  leaders  of  the  move- 
ment, both  in  peace  and  war,  are  two  men  of  genius,  botli 
sprung  Irom  the  middle  class— Count  Cavour  and  Garibaldi.    That 
which  has  made  me  so  hopeful  from  the  first  day,  that  in  the  end 
Italy  will  recover  her  independence,  has  been  the  development 
and  growth  of  the  middle  class,  and  the  pro.gress  it  has  made,  in 
spite  of  all  the  turmoils  of  despotism.     If  King  Victor  Emanuel 
IS  the  destined  sovereign  of  t^ie  new  Italy,  it  is  not  simpiv  be- 
cause he  is  the  most  hberal  prince,  as  also  the  boldest  in  the 
whole  country,  but  especially  for  the  reason  that  the  middle  class 
IS  more  elevated  and  more  powerful  in  Piedmont  than  anvwhere 
else.     There  exists  in  Lombardy,  in  Tuscany,  in  tlie  States  of 
Farma  and  Modena,  in  the  Romagna,  and  even  in  the  Kin-dom 
of  Naples,  a  brilliant  coUection  of  lawver^,  physicians,  en-ineery 
professors,  manufacturers,  and  merchants,  who  for  a  lon<r  time 
have  been  dreaming  of  this  change,  and  who  have  labored  for, 
and  deserved,  the  liberty  of  their  country. 

Rome  wiU  not  be  freed  until  after  Venice  and  all  the  other 
ItaUan  cities.  Religion  and  diplomacy  are  not  the  only  c;iu3e3 
tor  this  delay  ;  it  is  also  to  be  explained  by  the  inferior 'posit  ion 


U> 


\ 


1 


4 


^vl.ich  the  masters  of  Uie  city  have  compelled  the  bourgeois  to 
occupy     This  misused  class  is  composed  of  hymen  holdmg  ol- 
fices  of  various  kinds-officers  of  different  ranks,  lawyers,  store- 
keepers, phvsicians,  artists  hoard ing-housc  keepers,  and  country 
merchants '  The  men  of  this  category  Uve  by  themselves  m  a 
.tate  of  the  most  perfect  equality-the  colonel,  the  clergyman, 
ihe  shop-keeper,  and  the  lawyer,  all  have  the  same  position  in 
society     They  are  generally  poor,  and  almost  always  dependent ; 
their  intelligence  is  limited ;  their  education  has  been  designedly 
neglected     The  majority  are  hangers-on  to  Uie  cardinals  and 
prmces  and  in  their  turn  extend  a  sort  of  patronage  to  the  com- 
mon people.     Prodigal  in  compliments  and  acts  of  politeness, 
which  are  the  common  currency  in  Rome,  they  yet  evince  vul- 
garisms in  their  conversation  and  habits  that  would  be  intolerable 
with  us.     They  meet  together  at  picnics  and  festivals,  and  before 
seating  themselves  at  table,  Uke  off  their  cravats  and  coats,  as  if 
it  were  in  no  wise  improper.     While  young,  they  are  good-look- 
in-  and  dress  with  some  degree  of  style,  spending  for  that  pur- 
po'^'e  the  last  crown.     At  the  age  of  forty  they  neglect  their  ap- 
pearance, use  tobacco,  wear  cravats  with  ready-made  knots,  leave 
off  eloves-but  still  think  they  must  have  a  carriage.     Tlieir  tables 
are  easily  supplied,  bread  and  pies  being  the  principal  part  of 
their  food,  with  a  variety  of  salads  and  pot-herbs.     They  go  to 
market  themselves,  and  rarely  give  their  wives  the  opportunity 
of  spendinj  a  cent     Their  apartments  are  scantily  furnished  and 
nclected.'  They  do  not  Uck  intelligence  or  shrewdness ;  but 
possess  a  fund  of  good  spirits,  and  invent  tlie  most  ingenious 
plans  for  making  great  fortunes  without  work.    They  marry  at 
an  early  aje,  and  Pro^■idelloe  blesses  Uiem  with  a  multitude  of 
children  which  they  do  not  know  what  to  do  with.    They  all 
have  reliL'ion,  but  not  all  honesty.     They  complain  bitterly  of  the 
.^overnmoDt  when  there  is  no  danger  of  being  overheard  ;  they 
flatter  the  prelates,  and  seek  every  occasion  to  supplant  them. 
Sueh  are  all,  or  nearly  all  of  them  ;  for  let  it  be  understood  tU«re 
are  some  most  honorable  eicepuous— perhaps  one  in  ten. 

The  young  women  have  fine  teeth,  owing  to  the  punty  ot 
the  watir  and  the  equaUty  of  temperature-large  eyes,  magnifi- 
cent heads  of  hair,  fine  shoulders,  and  admirably  formed  necks. 
Their  features  are  regular,  without  much  deUcacy ;  the  nose  is 
well-formed,  and  the  Up  a  UtUe  haughty.     They  have  a  tempt- 


112 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


THE   ITTDDLE   CXASS. 


113 


iDg  complexion,  superb  anns,  plump  hands,  the  waL^  often  too 
thick,  the  legs  too  heavy,  and  the  feet  too  large.     It  is  more 
agreeable  to  see  them  than  to  hear  them  talk ;  for  their  voices  are 
often  masculine,  and  even  hoarse.     Their  education,  becnm  in  a 
convent  and  finbhed  at  home,  is  still  more  neirlecrc^l  than  Umt 
of  the  men  ;  they  are  almost  entirely  ignorant  of  all  ther  ou^ht 
to  know,  but,  on  the  oilier  hand,  know  a  creat  manv  '  '       "^ 
which  they  should  be  ignorant.     Disinherited  bv  law  in  laror  of 
their  brothers,  they  are  obliged  to  got  husbands'  bv  other  aUure- 
ments  than  money.     They  often  have  rrcour^  to  a  frank,  plain 

whX  f  r  'T''^'  "^'''^  ''  ^  °"^^^  ^^^^SuL^d.  and  i.; 
whoUy  free  from  German  sentimentality.  Thev  make  no  attempt 
to  repress  their  appetites  or  their  ei.  int :  thev  never  L 

dreaming  by  moonlight;  they  say  out  plamlv.  that  if  the  nic^ht- 
mgale  is  pleasant  to  hear  in  the  woods,  it  is  not  unpleasant  in  a 
stew  with  rice.     The  romantic  pleases  them,  where  all  is  honor- 
able     They  ogle  without  hesitation  any  youn?  man  who  passes 
and  lean  from  their  balconies  to  exchange  letter,  tied  to  a  cord^- 
but  this  confidence  and  liberty  prove  somethinir  in  their  favor' 
Ibey  do  not  suppose  that  any  one  will  atiem^pt  to  win  their 
hearts  without  aspiring  to  then-  band.     These  httle  lore-passaires 
are,  m  theu-  eyes,  only  cross-roads  upon  the  highway  to  matri- 
mony.     Just  as  they  are  excitable,  so  are  thev  stron-  in  their 
resistance.     The  most  adored  lover  L.  nothing 'in  their  eves  as 
soon  as  he  loses  his  aureola  of  the  ftitnre.     Thev  ciy  tbem'selves 
almost  to  death,  and  six  months  afterward  set  ibout  lovin-  an- 
other.     Don  Juan  and  Lord  Lovelace  would  waste  their  tin^  be- 
foiv  such  httle  fortresses,  so  easy  to  invest  and  impossible  to  tak. 
\>  hen  at  last  they  marry,  they  bring  to  their  husbands  a  ci^arac- 
ter  ot  innocence  not  to  be  easily  duped,  and  of  frankn.-s  show- 
mg  k-nowledge.     They  have  retained  all  the  ^  ,  of  a 

young  girl,  except  simplicity.  They  want  notlui.^^  uui..^  ^^>- 
taps^  the  aown  ot  an  unpicked  peach.  Thev  are  hke  the  l.-u^rs 
in  the  markets  at  Pans,  which  have  passe.]  throu^rh  seven  or 
eight  hands  before  we  have  a  chance  to  put  our  teeth  into  ti 
Alter  mamage,  if  report  be  true,  thev  enjov  some  hbenv  S.  -  - 
dal  says  that  easy  husbands  abound  in  the  middle  class,*  and  r  at 
very  many  of  the  women,  themselves,  pay  the  expense  of  their 
toilettes,  I  think  this  statement,  ii^  not  whoUv  untrue  at  h 
much  exagger:ited.    Children  come  one  after  'another  'the  fct 


y 


wrinkles  appear  on  the  forehead,  age  creeps  on,  the  woman  ab- 
dicates and  tlie  mother  succeeds,  coquetry  is  dropped,  the  toi- 
lette loses  its  attractions,  and  nothing  remains  but  a  kind  of 
govcrne>s  in  a  woolen  gown,  who  wallLS  behind  her  daughters 
on  tlie  promenade  of  the  Pincian. 

The  Roman  i  class  so  little  resembles  ours,  tliat  you  are 

doubtless  curious  to  examine  it  more  nearly.  Let  us  go  into  the 
ranks,  and  begin  with  the  hberal  professions.  M.  Marchetti, 
^L  de  Itossi.  ^I.  Lunati.  are  men  of  eminence,  who  would  do 
honor  to  any  courts  of  law  in  Europe,  but  the  majority  of 
a<ivocates  are  very  humble,  very  timi<l,  and  thrown  into  the 
shade.  The  judicial  debates  are  not  public ;  and  the  lawyer 
takes  but  little  pains  to  be  eloquent  when  he  has  to  plead  in 
a  desert.  Very  often  the  advocate  writes  his  speech  instead 
of  dehvering  it.  His  notes  for  such  and  such  a  cUent  are  gen- 
erally printed.  If  he  had  the  talent  of  Cicero,  he  could  hardly 
gain  much  glory  by  such  a  proceeding.  His  fortune  is  made 
very  slowly  from  the  small  retaining  fl-es  and  tlie  fixed  salary 
from  three  or  four  rich  families,  taking  a  lawyer  for  tlieir  exclu- 
sive use.  Several  princes  of  the  bar  act  as  secretaries  and  as 
counselors  to  the  auditors  of  the  Boia  ;  they  take  up  the  ques- 
tions and  study  out  the  decisions  of  the  Supreme  Court,  But  if 
the  auditor  of  the  Rota  be  raised  to  the  rank  of  a  cardinal,  his 
secretary,  no  matter  how  learned  he  may  be,  his  cabinet  coun- 
cilor, is  at  once  thrown  upon  his  own  resources.  The  advocate 
Vannutelli  left  a  large  fortune,  but  only  because  he  was  the 
business  manager  for  the  Bonaparte  family.  How  far  removed 
we  are  from  tlie  power  of  the  ancient  tribune  or  even  from  the 
noble  and  brilliant  ii  nee  of  the  French  bar!     Wliat 

a;'  es  me  is  that  there  should  be  so  many  men  of  leamiuf 

and  mteirrity  in  a  j  -on  so  humble  and  restricted. 

The  I  ians  are  also  dependent  to  the  last  decree.     In  a 

city  where  tlie  price  lor  visits  is  from  twenty  to  thirty  cents,  a 
poor  devil  of  a  doctor  would  die  of  .  .  y  if  he'were  not 

employed  by  a  few  rich  lamilies.  Here  he  gets  a  crown  a 
month,  there  two,  at  another  place  five  or  six.  In  the  course  of 
bu  he  resorts  every  evening,  at  the  hour  of  the  Ave  Maria,  to 

the  shop  of  some  apothecary.  Whoever  wants  a  doctor  apphes 
to  the  a;  ary.  as  very  often  the  residence  of  the  former  is 

unknown.     When  you  walk  by  an  apothecary's  shop  toward 


■  saffife*^ 


iA*JSj<ii:i.. 


114 


ROME    OP   TO-DAY. 


six  o'clock,  on  a  winter  evening,  you  will  see  half  a  dozen  gcntle- 
'  men,  with  their  hats  on,  conversing  around  the  store.  These  are 
doctors  waiting  for  a  call.  In  summer  they  hang  around  the 
door  steps,  like  the  porters  in  Paris.  ^Many  of  them  deserve  to 
live  better,  and  I  could  mention  a  number  of  surgeons  at  Rome 
who,  like  the  celebrated  Baroni,  have  been  an  honor  to  Ital}", 
and  instructed  Europe.  But  the  means  of  instruction  are  so 
incomplete,  so  trammeled  by  ridiculous  prejudices,  that  the  great 
proportion  of  the  Roman  physicians  are  behind  the  age.  For 
every  ten  who  follow,  step  by  step,  the  progress  of  modern 
science,  there  are  thirty  who  still  hold  to  M.  Purgon's  theory  of 
therapeutics.  Nearly  all  the  invalids  exposed  to  their  care  break- 
fast upon  a  purgative  and  dine  on  a  bleeding.  The  inhabitants 
of  Rome  are  the  best  purged  and  best  bled  of  all  Christians. 
They  bleed  the  unfortunate  victim  of  intermittent  fever  until 
worn  out,  at  the  same  time,  by  the  disease  and  the  remedy,  he 
descends  to  the  tomb.  Some  of  the  country  physci.ins  still  have 
the  brazen  effrontery  of  charlatans.  They  explain  to  the  invalid 
in  loud  and  boastful  tones  the  cause  of  his  sufferings. 

"  Poor,  perishable  creature  !  it  is  a  worm  that  torments  you  ; 
you  are  liteially  a  victim  to  the  acrastia  vermi.  By  good  luck 
you  have  called  me  in  time ;  the  worm  has  not  yet  reached  the 
grand  reservoir  of  your  life.  I  am  about  to  check  his  progress 
by  a  good  bleeding,  lest  he  take  advantage  of  the  circulation  of 
the  blood  and  advance  still  further ;  then,  by  taking  him  un- 
awares, we  will  expel  him  in  the  rush  of  a  profuse  purgation." 

After  a  treatment  of  eight  days  the  sick  man,  empty  as  a  dead 
chicken,  succeeds  in  passing  a  little  shred,  and  the  doctor  cries 
out,  "  Be  thankful  that  you  have  met  a  worthy  pupil  of  Hippo- 
crates. Science  has  accomplished  one  more  miracle;  the  worm 
is  subdued,  and  you  are  cured  !" 

However,  I  once  met  in  the  suburbs  of  Rome  a  doctor  who 
was  nmcli  more  unpretending  than  this.  He  was  a  young  man, 
whom  die  apothecary  had  sent  to  a  house  where  I  happened 
to  be. 

The  sick  person  said  to  him  : 

"  I  do  not  feel  well ;  ray  head  is  heavy ;  I  am  fat ;  I  have  a 
tolerably  short  neck.  I  don't  care  about  dying  of  apoplexy — so 
bleed  me.'' 

"Willingly!"  replied   the  young  man,   taking  oQ'   his  coat. 


I 


THE   MIDDLE    CLASS. 


115 


t 


"  Bleeding  is  a  pretty  operation ;  very  useful,  and  easily  done ; 
yes,  easily,  although  all  men  are  not  equally  adroit.  You  are 
not  afraid  ?  No !  nor  I  either  I  What  does  a  bleeding  amount 
to  ?  simply  a  prick  on  the  arm.     The  tiling  is  not  to  tremble." 

He  was  trembling  a  little.  Nevertheless  he  recovered  himself 
in  the  presence  of  danger,  drew  out  liis  lancet  and  pricked  the 
vein.  A  fair-sized  stream  of  blood  spirted  out  into  the  bowl,  and 
the  young  doctor  fell  upon  his  knees,  crying  out: 

"Thanks  to  the  Madonna!  this  time  I  have  succeeded." 
When  he  had  recovered   from  his  emotion  I  said  to  him: 
"  Parbleu !  doctor,  you  have  a  skillful  hand,  and  I  would  like  to 
put  myself  under  your  charge.     This  accursed  sirocco  tliat  has 
been  blowing  for  two  days  causes  me  a  feeling  of  ill  health  which 
I  can  not  explain,  and  I  am  hardly  able  to  work." 
"  Would  you  hke  to  be  purged  ?" 
"  Thank  you,  no." 

"  Would  you  like  to  have  me  bleed  you?" 
''  Oh,  no !  I  am  obliged.     Do  not  let  us  abuse  the  blessings  of 
the  Madonna." 

After  a  little  hesitation,  he  replied,  "  What  do  you  intend  to 
do  yourself  iC" 

"  I  tliink  I  shall  take  a  foot-bath,  with  the  water  quite  hot." 
"  You  are  right.     Yes,  take  a  foot-bath;  I  recommend  you  to 
take  one.     After  that,  if  you  will  take  my  advice,  you  will  go  to 
bed,  and  pray  to  St.  Andre  d'Avellino,  for  liis  intervention  is  very 
powerful  in  such  cases." 

The  distance  between  this  doctor  out  of  a  dozen  and  the  shop- 
keeper is  so  short,  that  I  do  not  hesitate  to  pass  directly  from  one 
to  the  other.  The  shopmen  and  the  artisans  have  changed  in 
physiognomy  very  little  during  the  past  hundred  years.  For- 
merly, the  stores  on  the  Corso  resembled  stalls ;  they  now  resem- 
ble the  stores  in  our  provincial  cities.  The  seller  used  to  reply 
in  the  most  nonchalant  style :  "  I  have  what  you  want,  but  come 
again  to-morrow ;  it  is  out  of  my  reach  to-day."  Now  tliey  show 
a  little  more  interest,  but  the  goods  are  no  better.  Rome  is  by 
no  means  a  center  of  inland  trade.  Most  of  the  cities  in  tlie 
States  obtain  their  supplies  directly  from  France  or  Germany. 
The  capital  supports  itself  by  a  limited  amount  of  manufacture, 
and  light  importations.  Strangers  of  passage  find  there  almost 
everything,  or  at  least  tlie  labels  of  nearly  all  the  products  of  the 


■■  sm;^''*^-l7K€^"^-i^^X;;J;5$?=^^':-'< 


116 


KOME  OF  TO-DAY. 


THE  MIDDLE  CLASS. 


117 


globe,  placed  upon  falsified  or  adulterated  goods.  The  price  of 
all  objects  of  luxury  is  exorbitant,  and  their  quahty  detestable. 
The  reason  is,  that  the  merchant  pays  heavy  duties,  sells  very 
little,  and  divides  his  profits  among  several  persons.  The  agents, 
the  guides,  the  officials  of  all  kinds,  deduct  each  a  small  portion. 
You  wish  to  buy  a  piece  of  furniture ;  your  Italian  domestic  is 
acquainted  with  a  man  who  happens  to  know  where  it  is  sold. 
They  draw  you,  like  a  threa«l  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  to 
some  shop  without  a  sign,  on  the  second  floor  of  a  house  tliat 
you  can  never  find  again  if  you  try.  After  you  have  left,  the 
merchant  shares  the  profit  with  your  guide,  who,  in  turn,  gives 
something  to  your  domestic.  The  pastry-cooks  who  supply 
your  dinner  are  almost  all  surrounded  by  the  same  air  of  mys- 
tery. At  first  sight  you  tliink  they  sell  playthings  of  gilt  paper; 
at  tlie  second,  you  begin  to  suspect  that  they  secretly  transact 
tlie  business  of  a  confectioner.  Certain  terms  must  be  employed 
to  get  shown  a  beefsteak,  which  turns  out  to  be  bad.  The  bro- 
kerage eats  up  so  much  of  the  profits  in  business  that  the  same 
quantity  of  the  same  kind  of  oil  sells  at  six  cents  by  wholesale,  and 
fifteen  at  retail    Judge  for  yourself  tlie  share  of  the  go-betweens. 

Roman  mechanics  are  generally  skillful.  They  work  slowly, 
but  they  do  certain  things  in  perfection.  There  are  nowhere  in 
the  world  more  solidly  built  houses  than  in  Rome.  The  fragiUty 
of  the  scaflblding  is  wonderful.  They  never  think  of  repairing  a 
house  only  on  the  last  extremity,  and  on  the  eve  of  its  tumbUng 
in  ruins.  They  take  out  one  brick  and  put  in  another ;  stick  a 
stone  into  a  crevice,  and,  at  the  end  a  few  months,  the  house  is 
found  to  be  entirely  rebuilt. 

Have  you  ever  heard  the  story  of  that  shoemaker  in  2^[ilan 
who  was  summoned  to  the  house  of  a  French  general  ?  It  oc- 
curretl  in  the  time  of  the  First  Empire. 

*•  My  man,"  said  the  general,  "  I  want  a  fine  pair  of  new 
boots,  but  I  can  not  get  such  as  I  want  nearer  than  Paris." 

The  shoemaker  bowed,  took  the  measure,  and  lefL  Eight  days 
afterward  he  furnished  the  general  with  an  admirable  boot,  as 
soft  and  well-fittAig  as  a  glove. 

"  Peste  !"  murmured  the  conqueror,  '^  you  are  a  skillful  fellow. 
That  boot  fits  well  enough;  now  let  me  try  the  other !'' 

" The  other ?'  answered  the  workman ;  " you  will  have  to  get 
that  made  in  Paris." 


If  the  Roman  artisans  work  more  slowly  than  ours,  it  is  prin- 
cipally because  tliey  have  no  money.  I  once  ordered  a  traveling 
coat  of  a  tailor  who  did  a  small  business,  but  whose  shop  showed 
that  he  was  in  prosperous  circumstances.  He  made  me  wait 
more  than  a  montli,  and  the  pretexts  he  invented  for  the  delay 
would  furnish  an  admirable  act  for  a  comedy.  At  last  it  occurred 
to  me  to  advance  him  a  few  crowns.  The  garment  was  furnished 
at  once.  Nearly  all  the  master  masons,  glaziers,  slaters,  etc., 
who  are  employed  at  the  Academy  of  France,  work  upon  the 
advances  made  them. 

It  is  for  want  of  capital  that  trade  and  manufactures  thrive  so 
little  in  Rome.  It  is  for  want  of  capital  that  in  Rome  one  looks 
in  vain  for  that  independent  and  intelligent  middle  class  which  is 
the  back-bone  of  all  great  nations.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the 
completion  of  the  railroads,  by  drawing  to  Rome  all  the  resources 
of  tlie  country,  will  create  tliere  a  middle  class  worthy  of  the 
name.  I  might  mention  several  very  wealthy  pork  butchers,  but 
the  only  enterprise  in  which  a  princely  fortune  can  be  made  is 
the  baking  business.  I  have  akeady  said  that  the  Romans  are 
the  most  enormous  consumers  of  bread  in  the  civilized  world. 

The  shopkeepers  and  artisans,  poor  as  tliey  are,  never  sin 
through  lack  of  modesty.  Their  vanity  and  their  impro\idence 
equal,  at  times,  the  same  traits  in  the  plebeians.  They  spend  all 
their  earnings  twice  every  year ;  first  at  tlie  Carnival,  and  again 
at  the  vintage,  during  the  month  of  August.  They  love  to  make 
a  show ;  wear  any  number  of  gold  ornament^,  in  the  shape  of 
chains,  finger-rings,  and  ear-rings.  Our  carpenter,  who  reminded 
me  in  every  Uneament  of  Caliban,  wore  a  turquoise  in  each  ear, 
just  as  the  buffaloes  have  an  iron  ring  in  their  nose. 

Last  evening,  as  I  was  going  up  the  Via  Frattina,  I  overheard 
the  end  of  a  conversation  between  a  druggist  and  a  book-binder, 
as  they  were  closing  their  shops.  '•  For  all  that,"  said  the  binder, 
**we  are  Romans,  and  the  first  people  of  the  world." 

The  letting  out  of  furnished  apartments  has  been  for  a  long 
time  the  princijial  means  of  support  for  the  middle  class.  When 
it  took  a  montli  or  two  of  traveUng  to  reach  Rome,  strangers 
did  not  stop  only  eight  days.  They  generally  passed  the  winter 
there,  but  not  at  a  hotel  for  the  hotel  is  a  modem  invention. 
In  tliose  times  a  Roman  family,  with  a  few  crowns  laid  up,  hired 
through  third  and  fourth  liands  a  whole  story  opening  on  the 


JUn'U:'-^    A    aM»Jr>gJi 


-?Sl' 


"iVj- 


118 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


Corso,  hired  furniture  for  it,  and  then  oflered  it  to  the  noble 
strangers  who  came  in  post-chaises.     You  could  liire  for  a  thou- 
sand crowns  an  apartment  which  would  not  net  fifty  to  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  house.     The  surplus  was  divided  between  the 
principal  tenant,  the  subtenant,  the  furniture  dealer,  the  agent  for 
furnished  houses,  and  the  guide  who  conducted  3'ou  to  the  door. 
This  custom  is  not  yet  wholly  done  away  with.     Very  many 
families,  occupying  a  good  position,  have' no  other  resources. 
They  occupy  some  little  corner  of  the  lodgings  near  you  ;  they 
open  the  door,  receive  your  calls,  and  kindly  place  themselves  at 
your  disposition.     This  half  menial  position  has  nothing  in  it  de- 
grading to  them.     Besides,  there  are  few  Romans  of  the  middle 
class  who  are  not  more  or  less  servants.     One  is  a  lawyer  and 
steward ;  another  a  physician  in  the  ser\'ice  of  some  prince  ;  this 
one  is  a  grocer  and  valet ;  that  one  a  tobacconist  and  Swiss  for 
a  Cardinal ;  still  another,  cook  for  a  marquis,  keeper  of  a  restaur- 
ant.    Who  has  never  heard  of  the  Restaurant  I,epri  ?     It  is  the 
most  celebrated  eating-house  in  Rome  ;  the  one  where  you  can 
dine  the  worst  for  the  least  money.     This  is  the  way  in  which  it 
was  established.     The  Marquis  Lepri  was  nearly  ruined.     His 
cook  offered  to  provide  for  him  and  all  his  family  at  the  rate  of 
five  cents  per  head.     lie  asked  for  nothing  in  return  but  permis- 
sion to  open  a  little  restaurant  in  connection  with  his  kitchen  in 
the  lower  story  of  the  palace.     The  bargain  concluded,  his  trade 
increased  so  fast  that  he  was  obliged  to  move  his  restaurant,  car- 
rying the  name  of  Lepri  with  him,  which  remains  there  still. 
But  just  notice  how  all  things  in  this  lower  world  change!     To- 
day it  is  called  Restaurant  dclla  Lepre— the  Restaurant  of  the 
Hare. 

The  only  middle  class  really  worthy  of  the  name,  because  they 
attain  to  a  fortune  and  an  independence,  is  the  class  of  wholesale 
dealers  in  the  country.  Their  business  consists  in  leasing  some 
large  domain,  which  they  cultivate,  with  a  great  deal  of  hard 
work,  by  means  of  immense  numbers  of  men  and  cattle  and  a 
large  expenditure  of  capital.  If  manufactures  and  commerce  are 
remarkable  for  nothing  at  Rome  except  their  absence,  agriculture 
is  not  in  the  same  category.  The  city  lies  like  a  gigantic  farm- 
house in  the  middle  of  the  most  fertile  plain  in  the  world.  The 
soil  is  so  extravagantly  rich  that,  in  spite  of  the  insalubrity  of  the 
air,  in  spite  of  the  rudeness  of  the  farming,  in  spite  of  the  periods 


THE   MIDDLE   CLASS. 


119 


•  \ 


of  idleness,  in  spite  of  the  little  protection  afforded  by  the  civil 
courts,  in  spite  of  the  indolence  of  the  proprietors,  and  the  de- 
plorable way  in  which  the  estates  axe  divided,  in  spite  of  tlie 
wretch»»d  condition  of  the  roads,  the  capital  for  Catholicism  is 
to-day  the  capital  employed  in  raising  grain.  Some  few  intelli- 
gent men,  sprung  from  the  lowest  ranks  of  the  country  rabble, 
have  saved  up  a  few  crowns  ;  their  sons  have  increased  the 
number  by  some  rural  speculations;  their  grandchildren  have 
bought  cattle,  taken  a  farm  ;  pay  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
francs  a  year  to  Prince  Borghese,  or  some  one  else,  and  at  the 
same  time  lay  up  equally  as  much.  In  the  succeeding  generation 
they  will  be  counts,  marquises,  dukes,  princes  I  They  will  buy 
the  patrimony,  the  name,  and  the  ancestors  of  some  poverty- 
stricken  noble  family,  if  ever  tbey  take  it  into  their  heads  to 
d^cend  to  posterity  as  the  heroes  of  Titus  Livius,  and  not  as  the 
slaves  of  Cato.  While  waiting  for  this  metamorphosis,  the  coun- 
try merchant  dwells  at  Rome,  or  Trascati,  in  some  grand  house 
modestly  and  sparingly  furnished.  He  has  chambers  painted  in 
distemper,  where  he  entertains  with  a  cordial  hospitality.  He 
offers  his  friends  an  excellent  bottle  of  v/ine,  and  fourteen  plates 
of  juicy  meats ;  eat  of  them  all,  I  beg  of  you,  unless  you  wish 
to  disoblige  him.  His  conversation  is  sensible,  and  full  of  infor- 
mation, especially  if  you  question  him  on  any  points  connected 
with  farming.  Nor  does  he  live  always  within  the  horizon  of 
the  Roman  campagna — from  time  to  time  he  will  travel.  He 
has  visited  London ;  has  stopped  a  httle  while  at  Paris ;  he  de- 
signs visiting  his  brother  who  hves  at  Vienna ;  perhaps  even  he 
may  extend  his  travels  as  far  as  Constantinople.  By  bo  means 
must  he  be  confounded  with  the  Romans  who  have  a  profession ; 
who  have  never  seen  salt  water ;  who  speak  of  Albano  only  from 
liearsay.  The  country  merchant  is  in  all  countries  of  sterling 
value — like  the  grain — Uke  silver.  His  only  defect  is  that  he 
repeats  a  little  too  often,  "  Excuse  us,  for  we  are  only  country- 
people."  Withojt  this  exaggerated  modesty,  there  would  be  no 
draw-back  to  the  pleasure  in  talking  with  him.  But  excuse  him 
for  an  instant,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  he  leave  you.  He 
has  this  morning  put  sixteen  hundred  reapers  to  work  in  a  field 
of  grain.  Allow  him  to  mount  his  horse  and  see  if  tlie  hail-storm 
of  yesterday  has  caused  him  a  loss  of  a  hundred  thousand  francs. 
I  will  show  him  to  you  in  the  full  performance  of  his  duties,  if 


120 


EOME  OF  TO-DAT. 


THE  MIDDLE  CLASS. 


121 


you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  follow  me  some  day  into  the  coun- 
try. But,  for  the  moment  take  off  your  hats — here  come  Mes- 
sieurs, the  laborers.  What  a  crowd.  Great  God !  Who  was  it 
told  us  that  the  laymen  could  find  no  employment  in  the  States 
of  the  Pope  ?  Don't  take  the  trouble  to  count  them,  they  num- 
ber eight  thousand^  five  hundred  according  to  the  last  official 
census.  It  is  an  old  established  custom,  tliat  every  important 
person,  whether  cardinal,  prelate,  or  prince,  should  try  to  procure 
for  his  dependents  and  friends  some  place  under  government. 

Two  evils  arise  from  this — the  multiplicity  of  employments,  and 
the  moderate  scale  of  pay.     They  try  to  satisfy  ail  the  world 
without  emptying  the  treasury.     All  these  gentlemen  so  well 
dressed  receive  very  moderate  salaries,  with  the  exception  of 
five  or  six.     The  great  majority  are  contented  with  from  twenty- 
five  to  a  hundred  francs  a  month ;    tliose  who  get  as  mu(5h  as 
fifty  crowns  are  persons  to  be  looked  up  to.    Here  are  govern- 
ors and  sub-governors  of  cities  who  rule  and  administer  justice, 
who  have  the  power  to  send  a  man  to  the  galleys  for  five  years, 
and  who  receive  from  the  appropriation  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five,  one  hundred,  and  even  sixty  francs  a  month !     Here  are 
judges  of  the  civil  courts  at  two  hundred  fi^ncs,  counselors  of 
the  court  of  appeals  at  tliree  hundred  and  fifty.     They  receive 
less  pay  than  the  keepers  of  the  lotteries.     If  you  are  curious  to 
know  bow  they  hve.  I  will  tell  you,  for  it  is  a  secret  I  can  tell 
without  hesitation.     The  chief  of  the  division  of  the  ministry  of 
finance  is  at  the  same  time  book-keeper  for  a  country  merchant. 
It  is  not  two  hours  since  a  servant  of  the  latter  came  to  his 
ofllce  to  drive  him  up  about  certain  papers  which  were  behind- 
hand.    The  officer  of  the  senate  comes  down  from  the  Capitol 
once  every  day  to  square  up  some  accounts  at  the  Ghetto,  in  the 
back  shop  of  an  Israelite.     Tuese  secretly  add  to  their  income 
by  holding  out  their  hands  at  the  right  time  for  t  bribe :  those 
are  too  proud  to  hold  out  their  hands,  so  they  ?^n-retly  put  them 
into  the  cash-box. 

There  is  a  group  of  honest  men  who  serve  the  state  with  zeal 
as  assiduous  as  it  is  disinterested,  I  will  say  almost  heroic.  It  may 
happen  that  one  of  them  will,  by  accident,  reach  some  elevated 
ix>st.  But  the  common  people,  who  esteem  nothing  so  much 
as  ecclesiastical  or  hereditary  display,  will  hardly  beheve  it. 
They  will  neither  pardon  '  —   '  "^  '  -v  origin,  nor  the  modest 


I 

1 


functions  which  he  performs.  The  aristocracy  will  keep  him 
rigidly  at  a  distance,  and  shut  its  doors  against  him.  The  clergy 
will  see  in  him  an  adventitious  upstart,  who  means  to  gain  his 
end  by  his  own  exertions.  At  the  first  chance  he  will  experience 
the  luck  of  poor  Campana.  I  must  avow,  however,  that  these 
political  chances  are  very  rare.  Xot  only  are  the  most  honest 
and  capable  citizens  shut  out  from  good  places,  but  they  them- 
selves turn  away,  and  take  another  road.  The  army  belongs  to 
the  common  people  who  furnish  the  soldiers— to  the  middle  class 
as  regards  the  officers.  It  has  not  its  proper  rank  among  the 
bodies  of  the  state  ;  it  does  not  form,  as  in  France  and  all  other 
military  countries,  a  distinct  and  distinguished  class.  Their  minds 
are  not  yet  formed  to  see  in  the  soldier  something  more  than  a 
mere  man  of  the  people  ;  and  the  epaulet  of  the  officer  is  not  yet 
a  sign  of  chivalry,  but  simply  the  sign  of  an  employment,  like 
anv  other.  This  question  deserves  a  chapter  by  itself  I  will 
therefore  postpone  its  consideration  until  I  can  discuss  it  more 
thoroughlv.  But  I  will  not  leave  the  subject  of  the  middle  class 
without  drawing  your  attention  to  that  little  group  of  shop- 
keepers in  uniform.  They  march  to  the  Viitican  at  that  step,  to 
occupy  the  second  antecliamber,  between  the  Swiss  and  the 
noble  guard.  They  borrow  tl;.  ir  guns  for  the  day,  and  re- 
turn them  when  they  go  out.  This  national  guard  is  called  the 
ScfUa,  to  show  that  it  is  selected  from  volunteers.  It  pays  for 
its  own  equipments,  but  I  imagine  that  each  one  of  the  sekct^d 
earns  nine  crowns  a  year,  and  a  dowry  of  three  hundred  francs 
whenever  he  has  a  daughter  married. 

6 


mm 


IX. 


THE    ARTISTS. 

THERE  are  still  to  be  found  in  Rome  a  certain  number  of  emi- 
nent artists.  I  do  not  pretend  to  teach  any  thing  to  Eu- 
rope in  mentioning  the  names  of  MM.  Tenerani,  Podcsti,  Cala- 
matta,  Mercuri.  But  I  am  amazed  that  these  talents  sliould  have 
ripened  in  a  city  where  art  is  reckoned  as  a  branch  of  ordinary 
bourgeois  industry,  and  c:iltivated  as  such  by  the  citizens. 

Artists  in  all  countries  belong  to  the  middle  class,  but  it  is  in 
Italy  alone  that  they  form  an  integral  part  of  the  commonalty. 
The  studio  of  the  painter  an<l  sculptor  is  of  the  family  of  the 
manu (Victory  and  the  warehouse.  The  theaters  are  shops  where 
they  sell  cheap  indigenous  commodities  of  but  mediocre  quality, 
and  foreign  merchandise  adulterated  by  tlie  dealer. 

Our  Paris  citizens  have  all,  on  the  contrary,  following  their 
age  and  their  education,  a  prejudice  favorable  toward  artists.  A 
shop-clerk  thinks  himself  honored  in  drinking  his  glass  of  brandy 
with  a  hanger-on  from  Hie  Palais  Royal — the  master  of  the  same 
shop  is,  on  the  contrary,  of  the  opinion  that  his  clerk  is  com- 
promised by  such  bad  company.  The  youthful  cit,  meeting  a 
canvas-dauber  in  the  street  of  the  Martyrs,  looks  upon  him  as  a 
being  superior  to  humanity  ;  but  men  of  a  certain  age  and  a  cer- 
tain fortune  are  not  far  from  seeing  in  him  a  creature  degraded 
by  the  abuse  of  strong  colors.  On  the  other  hand,  our  artists 
almost  always  nourish  a  profound  contempt  for  that  caste  which 
has  the  habit  of  seizing  a  great  deal  of  rent,  and  buying  but  few 
pictures.  Even  the  actors,  mainly  dependent  upon  tlie  bour- 
geois, are  very  indifferent  as  to  the  opinion  of  the  bourgeois. 
They  value  only  the  applause  of  some  thirty  jhtsous  who  did 
not  pay  for  their  seats.  Our  authors  also  write  for  the  admira- 
tion of  a  very  few  individuals  who  do  not  buy  many  books.     It 


THE    ARTISTS. 


123 


is  a  stinging  reproach  to  accuse  them  of  working  for  the  bour- 
geois. With  us,  writers,  painters,  sculptors,  composers,  singers, 
and  actors,  live  as  they  can,  better  or  worpc,  but  very  decidedly 
in  a  dilTorent  wav  from  the  stockins:  dealer. 

In  France^it  is  the  common  notion  that  the  merits  and  defects 
of  our  artists  are  reproduced  among  the  Italians,  with  that  dose 
of  exaggeration  which  comports  with  the  climate.  Just  as  the 
inodorous  shrubs  of  the  temperate  regions  acquire  an  exaggerated 
perfume  in  the  approach  to  the  equator ;  as  the  inofll^nsive  ser- 
pents of  the  North  inflict  a  mortal  wound  in  the  South,  we 
please  ourselves  in  supposing  that  the  talent  and  character  of  the 
artist  will  become  warmed, \ind,  as  it  were,  clqctrified,  under  the 
rays  of  a  more  ardent  sun. 

The  theater  and  the  French  novel  look  to  Italy  for  nervous  com- 
posers, poets  burning  with  a  feverish  frenzy,  painters  intoxicated 
with  glory,  and  singers  of  noble  caprice,  who  shall  scale  more 
Inddei-s  in  their  song  tlian  were  ever  seen  by  a  Roman  hod-car- 
rier.    Good,  simple  race  that  we  are! 

Let  us  begin  at  the  theater,  and  you  will  see  how  little  they 
resemble  the  portraits  that  have  been  painted  for  us.  The  direc- 
tor is  a  man  who  has  a  little  money  that  he  is  willing  to  risk. 
He  asks  permission  to  play  comedies  for  three  months  in  one  of 
the  halls  of  the  city.  Some  patron  endorses  his  morality — the 
police  gives  consent.  Behold  him  a  director !  Last  year  lie  was 
a  farmer ;  next  year  he  will  speculate  in  the  army  supplies  :  at 
this  very  moment,  if  his  receipts  are  small,  he  can  retrieve  him- 
self by  the  anchovy  fisheries,  of  which  he  has  the  monopoly. 

The  hall  where  his  nets  are  to  be  spread  for  the  public,  is  a 
sort  of  well,  set  round  with  boxes,  the  parquette,  and  the  bot- 
tom. You  may  count  six  ranges  of  boxes,  all  alike,  and  disposed 
in  the  order  of  the  windows  of  a  house.  The  parquette  and 
the  orchestra  are  in  one  ;  the  benches  are  commodious,  and  there 
is  easy  circulation.  The  boxes  are  let  for  the  season,  or  the  even- 
ing, at  extremely  moderate  rates.  1'hoy  are  furnished  with 
straw-bottomed  chairs,  the  lessee  being  at  liberty  to  substitute 
easy  chairs.  The  lighting  is  not  costly,  for  the  hall  is  but  a  few 
degrees  less  black  than  an  oven.  The  repairs  consist  of  a  fresh 
coat  in  water  colors,  which  is  not  often  renewed. 

The  administration  is  composed  of  two  employes,  one  of  whom 
sells  the  tickets  in  a  neighboring  shop,  and  the  other  receives 


124 


ROME   OF   TO-DAY. 


them  at  the  entrance  of  the  parquette ;  no  comptroller,  no  box- 
opeuer.  Each  person  arrives  with  his  ticket,  or  his  key,  accord- 
injr  as  he  belonjjs  below  or  above.  The  vestibule  serves  for  the 
green  room  ;  there  is  also  the  street,  in  which  one  may  spend 
the  entr'actes. 

If  the  contractor  thinks  proper  to  offer  tliis  respectable  public 
an  opera  season,  he  begins  by  placarding  a  proclamation  to  his 
;j»IacaBnases.  He  trumpets,  with  loud  praises,  the  names  of  the 
authors,  the  composers,  and  the  artists  whom  he  has  enrolled- 
The  first  performers  are  reasonably  well  paid  ;  they  get  much 
less  than  at  Paris,  but  enough  to  live  upon  in  the  Italian  style. 
The  chorus  singers  and  instrumentalists  may  be  caught  with  a 
sinsrle  throw  of  the-  net;  the  wares  are  common,  ami  nothing 
abounds  here  more  than  mediocrity. 

The  prima  donna  assoluta  is  a  good  family  mother.  Her  six 
Utile  creatures  have  had  the  delicate  consideration  not  to  spoil  the 
voice  of  their  mamma.  Iler  husband  is  a  baritone,  sometimes  a 
ruined  gentleman,  whom  she  supports.  Have  no  fears  that  she 
may  deceive  him  ;  she  has  too  much  to  do.  The  performance, 
the  rehearsals,  the  children,  and  the  soup-pot  absorb  her  whole 
soul.  Still  it  is  not  impossible  that  her  marriage  contract  may 
receive  a  scratch  or  two,  for  is  she  not  a  woman  ?  But  she  will 
never  abandon  her  husband,  that  she  may  sing  more  at  her  ease. 
There  is  much  simplicity,  genuineness,  and  real  goodness  of  heart 
in  this  prima  donna,  provided  that  the  luxury  of  Paris  or  St. 
Petersburgh  have  not  turned  her  head.  Her  husband  is  her 
most  necessary  article  of  furniture.  He  goes  with  her  to  the 
theater  and  takes  her  home,  signs  the  agree  ment^?,  leads  the 
chiMren  to  school,  and  buys  the  dinner  at  the  market. 

The  lady  soprano  and  gentleman  tenor  are  neither  more  nor 
less  considered  than  the  common  citizen.  They  have  relations, 
honest  shop-keepers,  who  willingly  acknowledge  them.  They 
are  a  little  envied  while  they  are  making  much  money  and  pitied 
when  they  are  down  at  the  heel.  They  learned  nmsic,  as  they 
would  have  studied  law,  plain  sewing,  or  medicine.  Applause 
pleases  tliem,  but  they  do  not  commit  suicide  when  they  may 
chance  to  be  hissed.  For  that  matter,  they  receive  a  great  deal 
of  ap})lau?e  whenever  they  merit  a  Utile. 

Italy  is  more  enthusiastic  than  France.  We  are  jealous  of  our 
artists  as  of  our  great  men,  and  reproach  them  with  the  admira- 


TIIE    AKTISTS. 


125 


lion  which  they  force  from  us.    Italy  spoils  hers.     The  habit  of 
!  recalling  them  after  each  aria  is  so  strong,  that  it  has  been  found 

V  convenient  to  leave  an  opening  in  the  middle  of  the  curtain.     If 

they  have  the  most  moderate  success,  they  do  nothing  but  come 
in  and  go  out  till  it  has  struck  midnight.  Their  sleep  is  never 
brokenly  criticisms ;  if  a  man  of  taste  should  feel  impelled  to 
offer  them  some  good  advice,  he  must  write  it  upon  the  walls, 
for  the  very  simple  reason  that  there  are  no  newspapers. 

Each  one,  towards  the  end  of  the  season,  gives  a  representa- 
tion for  his  benefit.  He  goes  in  person,  and  with  flexible  back 
offers  his  box-tickets  to  the  grand  seigneurs.  They  give  him 
more  th!m  tlie  ordinary  price.  He  thanks  them  very  humbly. 
When  the  doors  open  he  seats  himself  under  the  vestibule  of  the 
theater,  behind  a  silver  plate,  into  which  every  one  throws  some 
offering,  and  he  bows  in  token  of  his  thanks  for  a  twenty  cent 

piece. 

The  poor  devils  of  the  orchestra  and  the  choirs  all  follow  some 
other  trade  for  a  living.  Plurality  is  the  fashion  and  necessity 
of  this  country.  Yesterday  I  hired  a  caleche  from  a  grain-dealer 
who  lets  carriages,  and  the  coachman,  it  seemed,  was  a  singer 
of  Argentina. 

The  theater  opens  with  an  opera  in  three  acts,  by  a  divine 
maestro,  whose  name  will  never  reach  Paris.  He  is  chapel-mas- 
ter of  a  microscopic  grand-duke,  or  patronized  by  some  Roman 
prince.  The  curtain  rises,  the  tenor  sings  an  aria,  the  public 
applauds.  At  this  signal  they  rush  into  the  side-scenes  after  a 
httle  man  in  a  butternut-colored  overcoat,  and  an  extraordinary 
neck-tie.  An  actor  leads  him  before  the  curtain,  and  he  bows 
profoundly.  It  is  the  author.  They  recall  him— he  returns. 
At  the  close  of  each  aria  the  applause  brings  him  out,  once, 
twice,  thrice;  his  poor  spine  can  do  no  more.  The  game  appeara 
to  please  him,  for,  instead  of  withdrawing  from  the  disgrace  of 
such  glory,  he  posts  himself  in  the  wings,  like  a  lackey  in  an 
antechamber,  waiting  the  good  pleasure  of  the  public.  In  truth, 
he  must  have  hungry  ears,  for  here  he  is  now  coming  of  himself, 
at  the  first  sound  of  applause,  without  a  semblance  of  violence  to 
excuse  the  tasteless  triumph.  At  his  fourteenth  genuflexion, 
dL.gust  seizes  me,  and  I  go  out.       The  first  act  was  nearly 

finished. 

What  may  appear  unnatural,  is  the  entliusiasm  of  the  audience, 


126 


ROME  OP  TO-DAY. 


who  are  paying  for  a  work  both  mediocre  in  itself,  and  feeble  in 
execution.  Claqiiers  do  not  exist  here ;  it  is  the  real  public  wliich 
screams  itself  hoarse  with  bravo?,  and  claps  its  hands  without  fear 
of  sprains.  I  observed  none  of  the  fashionable  world  taking  its 
ice  or  talking  of  its  own  concerns  during  the  recitative.  It  lis- 
tened with  all  its  ears,  and  applauded  with  its  whole  heart.  The 
Romans  in  Rome  do  gratis  and  vigorously  what  the  Parisian 
Romans  do  %vith  languor  and  for  value  received.  At  the  end  of 
a  season  of  three  months,  the  contractor,  who  has  produced  three 
operas,  one  of  which  was  new,  retires  gloriously.  He  has  lost  a 
little  monov,  but  is  consoled  by  engraving  on  a  block  of  marble, 
at  the  door  of  the  theater,  the  success  which  he  has  bbtained, 
and  the  gratitude  of  the  people.  Sometimes  he  seeks  fortune 
elsewhere;  sometimes,  also,  to  set  himself  straight,  he  tries  a 
season  of  the  drama  and  comedy. 

He  has  taken  care  to  secure  the  aid  of  three  or  four  lawyers ; 
it  is  the  lawyer  who  writes  the  comedies.  The  poets  of  the 
troupe  are  announced  in  the  prospectus  after  the  actors.  Usually 
these  gentlemen  content  themselves  with  translating  the  dramas 
and  vaudevilles  of  Paris.  It  was  thus  that  Terence  and  Plautus 
were  inspired  by  the  Greek  comedy.  But  Terence  and  Plautus 
did  not  write  their  translations  with  a  running  pen.  The  Roman 
author  rarely  refuses  himself  the  pleasure  of  signing  the  work 
which  he  has  translated ;  it  is  the  old  habit  of  a  nation  of  con- 
querors. S<-)metime3  they  scratch  the  author's  name,  and  the 
public  is  allowed  to  suppose  that  the  piece  made  itself.  The 
Seigneur  Engenio  Scribe  has  alone  tlie  privilege  of  being  always 
named. 

The  Roman  public  likes  nothing  but  French  pieces.  It  claps 
them,  and  laughs  and  weeps  over  them.  But  from  time  to  time 
its  self-love  revolts  against  its  taste.  What!  cries  the  parquette; 
we  are  Romans,  and  we  applaud  French  authors  !  Thereupon 
they  hiss,  on  principle,  the  work  with  which  they  are  most  de- 
lighted. Last  year,  at  about  this  time,  the  public  amused  itself 
by  hissing  its  favorite  actor.  Tiie  fellow  instantly  understood 
what  it  meant.     He  quietly  folded  his  arms  and  replied: 

"  Gentlemen,  I  admit  tliat  we  are  very  much  in  the  wroni:  to 
offer  you,  day  after  day,  a  foreign  article.  We  now  engage  to 
give  you  exclusively  national  pieces,  so  soon  as  your  authors  will 
tiike  the  trouble  to  write  them." 


THE   ARTISTS. 


127 


The  authors  try  it  from  time  to  time ;  and  then  one  sees  a 
specimen  of  the  moral  and  heavy  fable  in  the  style  of  Berqum. 
Egotism  and  Generosity,  The  Orphan  Rv:enged,  TJie  Tardy  Re- 
pentance, The  Trials  of  a  Fiery  Temper.  The  pubhc  yawns  a 
little  at  these  rhapsodies,  but  it  also  sometimes  weeps.  1  he  easy 
sensibUity  overflows  in  water,  if  only  a  father  blesses  his  children, 
or  a  sinner  asks  pardon  for  his  crimes.  The  actors  most  highly 
appreciated  are  those  who  throw  out  their  voices  as  if  to  shake 
down  the  hall,  or  who  roll  the  whites  of  their  eyes  out  of  then' 

sockets.  ,. 

Amon-  the  few  writers  who  work  for  the  stage  are  some  dis- 
tincruished  pupils  of  Goldoni.    Moderate  in  comedy  and  m  paUios, 
they  fail,  nevertheless,  neither  in  invention  nor  elegance      But 
the  satisfaction  of  the  parquette  and  the  bravos  of  a  public,  ex- 
acting too  little,  easily  cont^'Ut  them.     A  somewhat  slack  canvas 
is  embroidered  with  a  gentle  dialogue ;  here  and  there  are  tacked 
on  some  moral  or  sentimental  tirades,  and  the  piece  is  finished. 
\n  En.rlish  author  is  not  content  tUl  he  has  twisted  two  or  three 
;iots  in"to  his  drama.     The   Italian  dramatist  takes  the  matter 
quietly,  and  does  not  hesitate  to  expand  a  simple  anecdote  mto 
five  acts.     The  restless,  violent,  excessive  temper  of  England 
and  the  easy  and  flowing  genius  of  Italy  betray  themselves  in 
tliis  as  in  everything  else. 

The  censorship  is  an  absurdity  in  Rome,  as  in  all  countries 
afllicted  with  a  censorship.  Nothing  could  be  more  irreproach- 
able than  the  dramatic  moralities,  which  are  invented  in  Italy, 
and  Bossuct  liimself  would  absolve  the  theater,  if  he  could  once 
but  see  the  Tardy  Repentance.  * 

But  the  man  who  has  received  a  pair  of  scissors  to  cut  the 
wings  of  thought,  must,  in  conscience,  be  careful  to  earn  his 
wa^es  He  cavils  over  the  most  innocent  details;  he  is  gUteU 
wiUi  a  peculiar  scent  for  the  discovery  of  danger  where  thcTC  is 
none  The  translator  was  forced  to  change  the  title  of  he 
Brewer  of  Preston  because  birrajo  (brewer)  sounded  somewhat 
Uke  sbirrajo  (constable).  In  the  interest  of  the  public  peace  it 
was  necessary  to  write  the  Liquorkt  of  Preston. 

In  the  translation  of  Drane  de  Lys,  they  cut  out  the  words 
ordinate  i  cavalli  (order  the  horses).    "  Horses  are  not  ordamed 
said  the  censor;  ''  only  priests  are  ordained."    To  make  amends 


128 


KOilE   OF  TO-DAT. 


TUB  AKTISTS. 


129 


for  this  he  passes  over  crudities,  which  would  not  be  endured  bv 
the  pit  at  the  Funambules.  ' 

The  actors  in  tU>s  counfy  are  aU  of  a  passable  mediocrity 
hke  the  otl^er  arfsts.     They  are  not  wanting  i„  conscience  Ir 
mtelhgence,  and  m  seemg  the  evening  performance,  you  would 
not  .mapne  that  they  rehearsed  this  morning  for  the  first  time 
You  will  sometimes  find  them  excellent  in  the  bouryeoi,  comedies 
of  Goldom,  the  luUian  Scribe.     Day  before  yesterday  thej"  r„ck 
me  as  being  quite  passable  in  Fiammino  or  An  Ecpialion \n  an- 
onymous  production     Daniel  Lambert  and  his  wife  had  merely 
tl  e  fault  of  roUmg  their  eyes  out  of  their  orbits  whenever  their 
situation  became  shghtly  pathetic.     The  single  reproach  to  be 
addressed  to  S,  vam  Duchdteau  is  that  he  presents  himself  on  all 
occasions  with  his  hat  planted  down  to  his  ears.     Xotwitlistand- 
mg  some  mistakes  in  the  mise  en  sce„e,  in  spite  of  the  Greek  cap 
of  the  pamter  and  the  red  silk  handkerchief  with  which  he  mops 
his  forehead,  the  piece  produced  a  profound  impression.     The 
pohce  corps  wept  hot  tears.     For  my  part,  I  could  not  suppress 
a  laugh  at  the  denouement  added  by  Uie  translator.    Daniel 
Lambert  forgives  h.s  wife,  opens  his  arms  to  her,  and  says  to  the 
young  Henry,  'There  Vill  be  two  of  us  to  love  thee  "    SHvain 
Duchateau  immediately  adds,  "And  my  sister  and  I  wiU  make 
lour.      1  he  curtain  falls  upon  this  foolery— let  it  fall 

However  unpreten.ling  may  bo  the  dramatic  literature,  it  is 
till  the  most  brilliant  thing  to  be  found  in  the  countrv-.     From 
time  to  time  there  is  printed  a  Dissertation  on  the  AVound  of 
^.b.J.C..  an  Oaering  to  the  Heart  of  Maryr,  „„  Example  for  the 
Chnstian  Deacon  a  life  of  Saint  Gertrude  da  Frosinone,  or  of 
the  most  happy  .Nicholas  da  VeUetri;  some  expurgated  edition 
of  a  Latin  cla.^s,c,  some  elementary  treaUse  of  astronomy  or  ar- 
.S°=">  J^''.^"ff  rn-ess  is  reduced  to  two  small  ^litical 
sheets  of  he  size  of  the  Charivari     Thev  describe  tliVcere- 
mon.es  celebrated  in  Rome  and  the  important  events  occu  rin. 
abroad  One  is  entitled  n.  Roman  DaiUj^  the  other  71.  PeoplJl 
True  Fr,en<l     Both  reach  some  hundreds  of  copies.     I  miht 
cite  some  other  ephemeral  publications,  which  try  to  live  by  The 
:rZr        '''""'  ^''"°"^'=^  '•'"^'  -metimes  Lio^  me  wi^' 
I  have  said  enough  on  this  subjVct,  for  it  is  neither  the  theater 
nor  literature  which  attracts  travelers  to  Rome.    They  know 


4 


that  the  drama  is  barely  tolerated  there,  and  that  for  the  past 
two  centuries  nothing  has  been  done  to  encourage  authorship. 
But  is  my  duty  to  expose  a  ridiculous  prejudice,  of  which  the 
Americans,  the  EngHsh,  and  the  French  themselves  are  the 
dupes.  It  is  still  believed  in  New  York,  in  London,  and  in 
Paris  that  the  Roman  painters  and  sculptors  arc  the  first  in  the 
world,  as  in  the  time  of  Raphael. 

Rome  possesses  a  very  small  number  of  true  artists,  and 
pleiades  of  manufacturers,  who  live  on  the  reputation  of  their 
ancestors.  There  is  not  a  rich  traveler  who  does  not  hold  him- 
self bound  to  bring  away  from  Rome  a  statue,  some  pictures, 
and  a  portrait.  The  wardens  of  our  southern  parishes,  if  they 
have  an  order  to  give  for  a  statue,  prefer  to  addres.s  themselves 
to  a  Roman  sculptor.  The  Americans,  grown  rich  by  commerce 
or  by  bankruptcy,  build  tlicmsclves  a  Grecian  temple  on  the  edge 
of  a  virgin  forest,  and  that  the  interior  of  the  house  may  be  in 
harmony  with  the  exterior,  they  come  to  Rome  with  all  sails  set ; 
they  make  an  onset,  purse  in  hand,  upon  all  the  ateliers,  and  bear 
off  with  them  an  assortment  of  the  objects  of  art. 

I  had  the  pleasure  to  accompany  a  gentleman  from  Cincinnati 
in  one  of  these  surprising  expeditions.  lie  had  come  to  Rome 
toward  tlie  end  of  the  month  of  April,  and  could  remain  but 
three  days.  It  was  not  much ;  nevertheless,  he  found  time  to 
see  the  city  in  detail,  to  buy  some  hundred  pictures,  and  a  half 
dozen  statues,  to  sit  for  his  bust,  and  a  full  length  portrait. 

"  It  is  a  favorable  season,"  said  he  to  me,  as  we  left  the  hotel 
*'  From  the  inquiries  I  have  made,  I  gather  that  but  little  has 
been  ordered  by  foreigners  this  winter ;  the  stores  of  the  artists 
are  overloaded ;  painting  has  fallen  twenty-Qve  per  cent,  since 
last  year.  Marbles  are  firmer,  it  is  said,  but  still  the  first  figures 
have  given  way  from  ten  to  fifteen  since  the  first  of  March. 
Come  on!"  he  called  to  the  guide  who  was  to  accompany  us; 
*'  take  me  to  the  best  sculptor  in  Rome." 

The  rogue  did  not  wait  to  be  twice  told ;  he  was  used  to  that 
sort  of  thing,  and  he  k-new  the  way  to  the  five  or  six  studios 
wlierc  they  give  the  largest  gratuities.  The  carriage  drew  up 
before  the  sign  of  a  celebrated  dealer  in  marbles.  The  master 
was  carelessly  scratching  at  a  little  earthen  figure,  while  waiting 
for  a  customer.  He  ruslied  to  meet  us  with  as  much  easrerness 
as  the  best  knight  of  the  yard-stick  in  a  shop  in  Paris ;  and  not 


.'iJS^-^lSi  aSs-i-- 


';si«**f».A 


130 


KOME   OF   TO-DAY. 


without  an  intelligent  glance  exchanged  with  the  faithful  fellow 
who  delivered  us  into  his  hands. 

Once  he  had  taken  possession  of  our  persons,  he  walked  U9 
throuj^h  one,  two,  three,  four,  five  successive  apartments.     lie 
explained  to  us  the  subject  of  each  of  his  compositions,  stopped 
us  before  every  statue  that  he  had  ever  cut  in  his  life,  and  cited 
the  names  of  all  who  had  ever  ordered  a  copy.     Such  a  figure 
had  been  sold  to  twelve  strangers  in  succession,  and  the  model 
was  always  there  ready  for  service.     They  had  just  finished  a 
copy,  another  was  marked  out,  another  was  under  way.     I  in- 
ternally admired  the  simplicity  of  our  French  arti^t^,  who  sell  tho 
right  in  the  work  with  the  marble.    The  Italians  are  more  know- 
ing.    When  they  give  you  a  Psyche  or  an  Adonis  for  fifteen 
thousand  francs,  they  reserve  the  right  to  copy  it  in  large  or  in 
httle,  so  long  as  there  shall  be  any  one  who  will  please  to  in.ke  it. 
I  would  have  taken  nothing  from  these  elegant  ateliers,  even 
if  it  had  been  offered  me  for  nothing.     The  bad  taste  of  the  com- 
position vied  with  the  triviality  of  the  expression  and  weakness 
of  design.     Under  the  hands  of  forty  skillful  workmen,  the  mar- 
ble had  changed  into  butter.     My  American,  on  the  contrary, 
was  in  ecstasies.    What  most  charmed  him  was  the  purity  of  tho 
Carrara  marble — as  white  as  the  best  refined  sugar ;  the  faultless 
polish  ^viiich  a  workman,  armed  with  the  pierre  du  Berrin,  gives 
to  the  precious  material ;  it  was  the  perfection  with  which  the 
practitioner  had  chiseled  the  accessories  ;    the  emblems,  easy 
chairs,  laces,  feathers,  books,  shoe-buckles,  coat-buttons.     The 
Italian  marble-cutters  have  a  decided  superiority  over  all  others 
in  whatever  does  not  belong  to  art. 

They  showed  us  antiques  and  modems,  mythological  figures, 
a  tomb  designed  for  a  church  in  Rome,  a  monument  ordered 
by  the  republic  of  Guatemala,  a  collection  of  bust**,  always  me- 
diocre, sometimes  ridiculous,  where  the  people  of  every  nation 
of  Etirope  displayed  its  toupets,  its  plaits,  its  whiskers,  its  dia- 
mond necklaces,  winding  around  scraggy  throats,  ita  cravats 
mathematically  knotted  beneath  a  false  collar.  Some  of  them 
were  a  good  deal  like  the  master-pieces  of  antiquity ;  they  were 
even  rather  too  much  like  them.  Here  I  paid  my  respects  to  the 
arms  of  the  Venus  of  the  Capitol,  there  to  the  torso  of  the  Venus 
of  Milo,  farther  on,  to  the  legs  of  the  Venus  de  Medici.  The 
American  bought  four  figures  of  women,  to  be  dehvered  by  the 


THE   AETISTS. 


131 


end  of  July.  It  was  not  done  without  a  little  bargaining,  tliough 
he  was  pressed  for  time.  He  wished  to  have  his  bust  tlirown  in, 
but  the  seller  did  not  see  it  in  the  same  light. 

"  I  have  asked  you  not  a  crown  too  much,  as  truly  as  I  am  a 
great  artist.  What  I  gain  from  you  is  a  very  small  matter ;  my 
profits  are  limited  by  competition.  I  do  but  turn  my  money. 
The  working  of  a  new  vein  in  the  quarry  costs  me  the  eyes  out 
of  my  head,  for  I  tike  out  my  marble  myself,  so  as  to  get  it 
without  fiaw.  The  boat  which  transports  it  to  Rome  is  my  own. 
I  have  to  keep  the  hands  the  year  round.  My  workmen— I 
employ  forty  of  them— devour  me  aUve  ;  my  rooms  represent  a 
capital  of  two  hundred  Uiousand  francs,  the  interest  of  which 
adds  to  the  general  expense  of  the  estabhshment.  And  if  you 
wish  for  your  bust,  which  will  certainly  be  a  chef  (Tosuvre,  you 
must  add  three  thousand  francs  to  the  total  of  the  order." 

The  American  suffered  himself  to  be  convinced.  The  patron 
made  a  signal,  and  immediately  one  of  his  pupils  began  the  work. 
He  selected,  among  five  or  six  busts,  roughly  blocked  out  before- 
hand, the  one  which  most  nearly  resembled  my  companion.  He 
took 'some  measurements  with  the  compass,  cut  away  the  fore- 
head, diminished  the  nose,  added  the  moustache,  brought  out  the 
whiskers.     After  a  sitting  of  two  hours,  the  outhnes  of  the  work 

were  complete. 

"  Return  to-morrow,"  said  the  master ;  "  I  will  myselt  finish 
the  portrait  by  adding  the  resemblance.  We  shall  mold  to- 
morrow evening,  the  next  day  finish  up  the  CJist,  and  the  marble 
will  be  sent  on  board  the  ship  with  your  goods  the  31st  July." 

We  left  immediately,  the  American  clasping  the  hand  of  the 
artist  with  sincere  admiration.  Wliat  flattered  him  more  than 
all  was  to  have  business  with  a  man  who  managed  a  large 

capital.  ,  , ,       , ,  . 

"  Would  to  heaven,"  I  added,  timidly,  "  that  he  could  mold  Uie 

clay  as  well."  .  .         ,    ,  ,v 

I  attempted  to  demonstrate,  by  an  eloquent  criticism,  that  ttia 
most  unpretending  pupil  of  our  school  of  the  Fine  Arts  was  a 
Michael  Angelo  in  comparison  with  these  laborers.  I  explained 
to  him  the  reason  why  they  sent  nothing  to  the  Universal  Ex- 
po^iion ;  because  the  productions  raked  out  of  their  manufacto- 
ries could  have  served  only  for  rows  of  posts  on  the  outside  of 


132 


KOiTE   OP  TO-DAY. 


the  building.    Ho  obstinately  closed  his  cars,  and  sung  on  in  his 
most  Saxon  tones, 

"  Rome,  mother  of  the  arts." 

The  servant  received  a  second  gratuity  to  conduct  us  to  a 
painter  of  reputation.  I  have  discovered  since  that  he  did  not 
select  the  worst  in  the  city,  though  I  had  some  doubt  of  it  while 
in  his  studio.  The  Roman  marble-cutters,  unskillful  as  they  are, 
bear  off  the  palm  from  these  manufacturers  of  pictures.  What 
baldness  of  composition  1  This  poverty  of  ideas,  this  common- 
place design,  tliis  want  of  coloring,  make  up  only  a  total  of  insi- 
pidity. For  once,  my  American  agreed  with  me.  However,  he 
gave  the  artist  a  two  hours'  sitting,  fur  the  reason  that  he  was 
very  complaisant,  addressed  him  as  "Your  excellency,"  and 
promised  to  paint  him  as  a  Neapolitan  fisherman,  in  a  cotton- 
field,  with  his  fishing-rod  over  his  shoulder,  and  his  factory  in 
the  background. 

But,  as  a  portrait,  however  interesting  it  may  be,  is  not  sufli- 
cient  to  decorate  a  palace,  we  drove  to  the  rooms  of  another 
artist  whose  business  was  to  copy  the  paintings  of  the  old 
masters. 

"  Decidedly,"  said  the  American,  "  I  would  rather  have  a  hun- 
dred good  copies,  than  one  ordinary  original.  These  reproduc- 
tions, when  hung  up  in  the  walls  of  my  villa,  will  recall  to  my 
mind  the  chefs  d'ceuvres  of  the  Italian  school  which  I  have  seen  a 
little  too  hastily  in  the  museums  and  galleries." 

The  great  trade  of  copying  which  supplies  all  unintelligent 
Europe,  gives  employment  to  at  least  fifty  persons.  Fifty  young 
artists,  under  the  orders  of  one  dealer,  are  at  work  from  morning 
till  night  upon  copies  made  from  other  copies.  A  dozen  pic- 
tures, not  tlie  best,  have  the  privilege  of  being  reproduced  eter- 
nally, to  the  exclusion  of  all  others.  The  Cenci  of  Guide,  the 
Viohn  Player  of  Raphael,  two  Cupids,  taken  from  a  picture  of 
Coreggio,  a  Ilerodias  from  Guide,  a  Christ  f;'om  Guerchino,  a 
Virgin  of  Carlo  Dolchi,  a  Judith  of  Gherardo  delle  Notti,  and 
the  Aurora  of  Guide,  already  mc^ntioned,  form  tlie  principal  con- 
tents of  the  grand  reservoir  .which  overflows,  by  certain  sluices, 
into  all  the  shops  of  the  city.  ^ly  American  nibbled  at  this 
collection ;  lie  made  a  small  venture  of  thirty  copies  framed,  as 
much  fur  hi=«  neighbors  as  for  h^^^:elf     The  highest  priced  were 


THE   ARTISTS. 


133 


fifty  francs  including  the  frames.     He  communicated  to  mo  his 
reflections  as  we  lell  the  manufactory. 

"  IIow  can  you  deny  to  me  that  the  Romans  are  the  first  art- 
ists of  the  world  ?  You  agree  that  thefee  copies  are  not  badly 
done ;  you  recognize  in  tliose  who  make  them  considerable  skill, 
yet  1  saw  quite  young  persons  among  them.  Do  you  think  tliat 
your  pupils  in  the  school  of  the  Fine  Arts  at  Paris,  could  deliver 
such  saleable  works  at  so  low  a  price  ?" 

"  No." 

"Our  young  Americans,  who  are  not  stupid,  will  labor  for 
ten  years  before  they  can  produce  works  of  equal  merit^  and 
their  prices  wiU  never  bear  the  competition.  From  which  I 
conclude  that  the  Romans  have  more  talent  for  painting  than 


"  You  are  perfectly  right,  and  I  have  never  denied  it.    If 
painting  be  a  trade,  the  best  painters  in  the  world  are  born 
in  Rome,  as  the   best  smokers  are  born  in  Piedmont.      The 
young   Romans  who  have   a  brush   thrust  into    their  hands, 
learnln  no  time  the  habit  of  painting.     An  apprenticeship  of 
three  or  four  years  teaches  them  enough  to  earn  their  living; 
the  misfortune  is,  that  they  never  go  beyond  that.     Is  it  their 
fault?     No!     I  blame  only  the   community  into  which   their 
birth  has  thrown  them.     If  they  lived  in  Paris  they  might  pro- 
duce chefs  (Tmwres.     Give  them  masters,  competition,  exhibi- 
tions, the  support  of  government,  the   encouragement  of  tlie 
public,  the  advice  of  intelligent  criticism.     AU  these  favorable 
circumstances,  which  aboun<l  with  us,  are  absolutely  wanting  to 
them ;  they  know  them  only  by  hearsay.     Their  sole  encourage- 
ment,'their  only  resource,  is  the  hunger  which  urges  them  on, 
and  the  stranger  who  passes  by.     They  work  with  the  greatest 
celerity ;  they  dash  off  a  copy  in  a  week,  and  when  it  is  sold 
begin  another.     If  some  one  more  ambitious  than  the  rest  under- 
takes an  original  work,  of  whom  shall  he  ask  whether  it  is  good 
or  bad?     The  common  people  know  nothing  about  it,  and  the 
princes  know  but  little  more.     The  possessor  of  the  finest  gal- 
lery in  Rome— Prince  Borgliose— said  the  other  day,  m   the 
saloon  of  an  ambassador,  "  For  myself,  I  admire  only  my  cAic." 
The  Prince  de  Piombino  gave  M.  Gagliardi  an  order  to  paint  a 
ceUing,  and  insisted  upon  paying  for  it  by  the  day.     The  gov- 
ernment has  many  cares  besides  the  encouragement  of  the  arts. 


^t&feaiaL^S: 


134 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


Some  of  the  small  circulating  journals  amuse  themselves  with 
citing  the  names  of  their  friends,  merely  to  flatter  them  with 
silly  praises.  Strangers  who  go  and  come  are  sometimes  men 
of  taste,  but  they  do  not  make  a  public.  In  Paris,  in  Munich, 
in  Dusseldorf,  in  London,  the  public  is  a  veritable  individual,  a 
man  with  a  thousand  heads.  When  a  young  artist  of  talent  has 
attracted  his  attention,  he  follo\vs  him  with  his  eyes,  encourages 
him,  finds  fault  with  him,  pushes  him  forward,  holds  him  back  ; 
for  tliis  one  he  conceives  a  glowing  attachment,  toward  another 
he  indulges  in  as  ardent  an  enmity.  He  sometimes  deceives 
himself;  he  has  ridiculous  infatuations  and  unjust  neglects ;  but 
he  lives  and  makes  others  live— one  can  work  for  the  love  of  his 
beautiful  eyes.  If  Rome  has  some  men  of  talent  in  the  second- 
ary arts,  it  is  to  the  public  of  Paris  that  she  is  indebted  for  them. 
MM.  Mercuri  and  Calamatta  are  pupils  of  the  school  of  Saint 
Michael,  in  Rome ;  but  you  would  have  seen  them  engraving 
images  for  exportation,  if  Paris  had  not  adopted  them. 

"Now,"  said  the  American,  "  I  should  like  to  buy  some  little 
souvenirs  in  marble,  to  put  upon  the  etageres  with  the  shells  and 
stuffed  birds." 

The  faithful  servant,  who  followed  us  like  our  shadow,  con- 
ducted us  to  the  mosaic-workers,  the  marble-cutters,  the  cameo- 
engravers,  the  turners  of  hard  stones.  My  companion  reaped 
an  ample  harvest  of  antique  monuments  reduced  to  citizen  pro- 
portions. He  bought  two  Coliseums,  one  arch  of  Titus,  one 
Trajan  column,  four  obelisks,  and  one  tomb  of  the  Scipios.  "  The 
Roman  architects  are  very  fortunate,"  he  said  to  me,  "  in  having 
such  beautiful  models  always  before  their  eyes." 

"  True,"  I  replied,  ^  but  they  do  not  profit  by  it  Architec- 
ture is  an  art  lost  tliese  hundred  years.  The  constructions  of  the 
last  two  centuries,  in  that  rococco  style  which  bears  the  name 
of  the  Jesuits,  are  not  always  in  perfect  taste ;  but  they  are 
wanting  neither  in  grandeur,  riclmess.  nor  splendor.  You  will 
see  at  Saint  Peter's,  at  the  Church  of  Jesus,  and  of  Saint  Igna- 
tius, and  at  the  Victorine,  chapels  a  little  too  much  loaded  with 
ornaments,  but  which  compel  us  to  admiration,  for  they  astonish 
our  eyes.  Never  perhaps  was  tlie  use  of  brilliant  colora  and 
bold  forms  better  understood.  The  sculpture  of  Bemin  lives, 
breathes,  and  throbs  in  tlie  midst  of  tliis  orgie  of  bronze  and 
porphyrj'.     But  the  new  edifices  are  not  worthy  to  sustain  the 


THE   ARTISTS. 


135 


sculptured  moldings,  copies  of  which  you  carry  away.  The 
stately  church  of  Saint  Paul  is  very  ugly  externally,  and  very 
much  tarnished  within.  The  Torlonia  Chapel,  at  Saint  John 
Lateran's,  is  decorated  like  a  cafe.  The  column  which  has  just 
been  erected  upon  the  Piazza  d'Espagna  resembles  a  church 
chandelier,  or  the  stoverpipe  in  a  dining-room.  If  any  one  can 
still  recall  the  old  Roman  architecture,  it  is  the  engineer  who 
has  just  thrown  a  bridge  over  the  valley  of  the  Ariccia;  but  you 
have  not  time  to  go  so  far." 

The  American  did  not  hsten  to  me — he  bought  his  mosaics. 
I  undertook  to  demonstrate  to  him  that  if  the  mosaic  work  is 
admirable  when  it  decorates  the  liemicycle  of  the  grand  old 
churches,  or  when  it  copies  the  pictures  of  the  masters,  in  enlarg- 
ing them  for  the  chapels  of  Saint  Peter,  it  is  purely  ridiculous  in 
cravat-pins  and  vest-buttons.     lie  filled  his  pockets  with  little 
spotted  plates  upon  which  one  might  recognize,  with  some  diffi- 
culty, bouquets  of  flowers,  figures  of  animals  and  antique  monu- 
ments.    He  afterward  secured  a  supply  of  cameos,  of  engraved 
seals,  of  carved  corals,  and  of  malachites  turned  in  the  sliape  of 
balls.     So  docs  every  stranger  who  knows  his  duty. 
When  his  collection  was  completed,  I  said  to  him  : 
"  Have  you  still  a  thousand  crowns  to  throw  away  ?" 
He  replied  by  the  radiant  smile  of  the  millionaire. 
''  Then  follow  me  to  the  house  of  the  greatest  artist  that  I  have 
yet  found." 

I  took  him  near  the  French  station,  to  the  house  of  the  man 
who  has  revived  the  old  Roman  bijouterie.  The  staircase,  hung 
with  inscriptions  and  antique  bas-relievos,  made  him  suppose  we 
were  entering  a  museum.  He  was  not  very  far  wrong.  A 
young  merchant,  as  learned  as  an  archeologist,  showed  him  a 
collection  of  ancient  jewels  of  all  epochs,  from  the  originals  of 
Etruria  down  to  the  age  of  Constantine.  This  is  the  source  from 
which  Caatellani  is  drawing  the  elements  of  a  new  art  that,  be- 
fore ten  years  are  past,  will  dethrone  the  small  wares  of  the 
Palace  Royal.  Our  little  jewels  of  fine  gold  thread  appear 
shamefully  stingy  beside  these  simple  ornaments,  large,  genuine, 
and  always  stamped  with  the  irreproachable  taste  of  antiquity. 
My  American,  greedy  of  large  articles,  selected  a  small  chest 
containing  the  toilet  of  a  Pwoman  lady,  a  collar  of  golden  balls,  a 
bracelet  of  beetles,  pins  togjrick  to  tlie  heart  of  the  slaves,  combs 


136 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


of  ivory  crowned  with  gold,  clasps  marked  with  an  inscription 
of  good  augury,  rings  assorted  for  each  day  of  the  week,  a  thou- 
sand coquetish  articles,  a  thousand  valuables,  the  details  of  which 
"would  fill  a  chapter  should  I  allow  myself  to  describe  them.  Ho 
threw  upon  the  table  the  ransom  of  ten  slaves,  and  took  to 
flight,  Hke  tlie  robber  of  Plautus,  with  his  treasure  under  hi? 
arm. 

"Excellency,"  said  the  servant  to  him,  "since  you  are  not 
frightened  by  large  expenses,  perhaps  you  will  buy  the  cup  pf 
Apelles.     The  price  is  fifty  miUions." 

I  did  not  beheve  that  the  Greeks  had  ever  painted  upon 
china;  but  the  figure  of  fifty  millions  piqued  my  curiosity.  Our 
man  conducted  us  to  a  small  shop  of  bric-d-bi-aCj  or  ratlier  to  a 
stall.  The  master  of  this  hut  was  accoutred  in  such  style,  that 
one  would  have  offered  him  alms  in  the  street.  He  examined 
us  witli  an  air  which  said  :•  You  will  not  get  my  goods  unless 
you  have  the  Golden  Fleece  in  your  pocket.  However,  he  con- 
descended to  open  a  box  made  of  preciou3  wood,  and  I  saw  be- 
tween two  cushions  of  white  satin  a  cup  of  Fajnza,  painted  by 
Raphael,  which  was  worth  in  Paris  perhaps  four  thousand  francdw 
"  Here  it  is,"  he  said.  **  The  price  is  fifty  miUions,  I  need  not 
tell  you  that  it  is  the  sole  chef  d'ocuvre  of  Apelles." 

"  My  brave  man,"  I  said  to  him,  "  do  you  know  exactly  how 
much  is  fifty  millions  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  is  a  little  less  than  ten  million  Roman  crown- 
pieces  ;  you  gain  there.  Ten  million  Roman  crowns  are  equal 
to  firty-tbree  million  four  hundred  thousand  francs  of  legal  value." 

"  Has  no  one  ever  told  you  that  your  cup,  which  is  very  fine, 
may  be  only  the  work  of  Raphael  ?" 

"  Of  Raphael !  Look  here  !  these  are  Raphael's  cups  ;"  and 
he  showed  us  a  dozen  pastorals  of  the  last  century.  "  Raj^hael 
was  not  unskillful,  and  there  is  much  to  be  said  in  his  praise ;  but 
Apelles  alone,  among  all  men,  could  make  a  chef  iT ceuvre^  like 
this." 

"  Supposing  that  it  was  painted  by  Apelles,  I  should  not  be 
fully  convinced  that  it  is  worth  fifty  millions." 

"  Still,  sir,  I  will  never  part  with  it  for  less." 

"  Come,  now,  be  reasonable.  Monsieur  is  one  of  the  richest 
men  of  America,  but  I  do  not  think  he  will  spend  more  than 
thirty  millions  tor  an  article  of  fancy.*i| 


N.W.. 


THE    ARTISTS. 


137 


He  shrugged  his  shoulders  disdainfully. 

"  I  have  fixed  my  price,"  said  he,  "  and  shall  die  before  I  lower 
it  a  crown." 

In  fact  he  will  die  rich  and  poor,  happy  and  miserable,  utterly 
lost,  hke  a  fakir,  in  the  hope  of  the  uncertain. 


THE  ROMAN   NOBIJ^ITY. 


139 


X. 


THE    ROMAN    NOBILITY. 

"TN  the  micldle  of  the  seventeenth  century,"  said  Ranke 
-L  "  there  were  fifty  Roman  families  which  had  existed  for  three 
hundred  years.  Those  which  had  sprung  up  subsequently  were 
not  recognized ;  and  a  low  extraction  was  attributed  to  them." 
Total  a  hundred  patrician  families. 

To-day  the  Roman  directory  counts  a  hundred  and  eleven  patri- 
cian families,  among  which  twenty  are  princely  and  eleven  ducal. 
The  effective  force  of  the  nobility  has  not,  tlien,  sensibly  changed 
for  two  centuries. 

The  Roman  nobility  may  be  divided  into  three  categories,  re- 
garding only  their  origin. 

The  first  is  of  feudal,  the  second  of  nepotic,  and  the  third  of 
financial  origin. 

To  all  lords  all  honor.  We  will  commence,  if  you  please,  with 
the  feudal  nobility. 

The  fifst  successors  of  St.  Peter,  who  did  not  exert  any  tem- 
poral power,  had  neither  nobles  nor  menials  in  their  diocese. 

It  was  in  the  middle  ages  that  the  Bishop  of  Rome  procured 
for  himself  tlie  sovereignty  of  a  small  empire.  lie  must  have 
conformed  to  the  usuages  of  the  times,  and  recognized  some 
political  facts  which  conformed  neither  to  the  letter  nor  the  spirit 
of  the  holy  books. 

Logically,  it  was  proper  that  all  the  subjects  of  the  Pope  should 
be  equal  before  tlie  sovereign,  as  are  all  men  before  God.  Bla- 
zonry was  not  an  evangelical  science,  and  if  the  apostles  converted 
a  part  of  the  ancient  world,  it  was  not  by  preaching  the  principle 
of  the  inequality  of  castes. 


But  the  temporal  power,  from  its  origin,  had  to  reckon  with 
the  feudal  element.  They  had  their  lords  at  Rome  as  in  all 
Europe ;  some  favored  the  monarchical  pretensions  of  the  Holy 
See ;  others  resisted  by  every  means,  and,  as  the  Colonna,  even 
by  arms.  It  was  after  interminable  contests  that  the  popes 
overcame  the  indigenous  nobility,  and  imposed  their  sovereignty 

upon  it. 

Not  only  was  peace  made,  but  the  local  aristocracy  finished 
by  rendering  the  papacy  conjointly  responsible  for  its  pretensions 
and  its  privileges. 

The  successive  accession  of  almost  all  the  great  families  to  the 
sovereign  pontificate  put  aristocratic  ideas  upon  the  throne  and 
formed  close  bonds  between  the  nobility  and  the  papacy.  The 
Savelli,  the  Conti,  the  Orsini,  the  Colonna,  and  the  Ceetani  wore 
the  tiara,  and  reigned  over  the  Romans  before  the  close  of  the 
middle  ages.  The  Piccolomini,  the  Borgia,  the  Medicis,  the  La 
Ronere,  the  Farnese,  the  Boncompagni,  the  Aldervendini  inau- 
gurated modern  history. 

Among  the  old  feudal  families,  who  have  given  more  to  the 
papacy  than  they  have  received  from  it,  some  boast  that  they  go 
back  to  the  earliest  times  of  Roman  history.  The  Muti  descend 
from  Mucins  Scaevola,  the  Santa  Croce  from  Valerius  Publicola, 
the  Massimo  from  Fabius  Maximus ;  at  least  that  is  what  they 
say.     In  any  case  their  nobility  is  very  ancient 

Napoleon  asked  a  certain  Massimo  with  tliat  brusqueness  which 
intimidated  so  many  people : 

"Is  it  true,   indeed,   that  you  are   descended   from  Fabius 

Maximus  ?" 

"  I  can  not  prove  it,"  replied  the  noble  Roman ;  "  but  that 
has  been  the  story  in  our  family  for  more  than  a  thousand 

years  I 

The  arms  of  the  Massimo  represent  the  traces  of  steps  crossed 
in  every  direction.  It  is  an  allusion  to  the  marches  and  counter- 
marches of  the  temporizer.    The  motto  of  the  house  is  Cunctando 

llestituit. 

The  Ciutani,  less  ancient,  are  descended  from  a  Roman  tribune 
named  Anato'le,  who  was  created  Count  of  Gaeta  in  730  by 

Pope  Gregory  II. 

One  Pierre  Collouna  is  spoken  of,  who  was  despoiled  of  all  his 
property  in  1100  by  Pope  Pascal  II.    The  family  must  neces- 


140 


ROifE   OP  TO-DAY. 


sarily  have  been  somewhat  ancient,  for  great  fortunes  are  not 
created  in  a  day. 

The  Orsini  family,  of  which  the  branch  Orsini  Gravina  alone 
remains,  descend  from  a  senator  of  the  year  1200. 

The  Corsini  family,  originating  in  Florence,  existed  before  the 
year  1300  ;  but  the  fortune,  tlie  eclat,  and  the  title  of  Prince  came 
from  Clement  XII.  ' 

The  Roman  Doria  are  a  detached  branch  of  the  great  Genoese 
family.     The  Lante  of  La  Kovere  were  consuls  at  Pisa  in  1190 
An  Alfieri  was  niajor-domo  of  Otho  II.  near  the  end  of  the 
tenth  century. 

We  read  in  the  inimitable  Voyage  du  Comeiller  de  Brasses  : 
"  There  are  four  great  houses  in  Rome  :  Orsini,  Colonna  Conti 
Savelli.    But  the  Crescenzi,  Altieri,  Giustiniana,  and  others,  who 
do  not  thmk  themselves  inferior  to  these  four,  would  not  admit 
this  distinction." 

I  have  had  the  curiosity  to  investigate  what  remained  of  the«:e 
great  houses,  a  century  after  this  journey  of  our  charming  tourist. 
There  are  no  longer  either  Conti  or  SaveUi.  The  Orsini' have  an 
income  of  one  hundred  thousand  livres;  the  Colonna,  two  huu- 
dred  thousand ;  tlie  Altieri,  thirty  thousand.  The  Crescenzi  and 
the  Giustmiani  are  exUnct,  like  the  Savelli  and  the  Conti  who 
have  given  so  many  popes  to  the  Church.  There  have  been  at 
least  ten  of  the  name  of  Conti. 

In  the  seventeenth  century  the  Savelli  still  exerted  a  feudal 
jurisdiction.  Their  tribunal,  as  regularly  constituted  as  any  other 
was  called  Corte  Savella.  They  had  the  right  to  snatch  from 
death  one  criminal  every  year,  a  pardoning  power  belonging  to 
the  crown  and  recognized  by  the  absolute  monarchy  of  the  popes. 
The  ladies  of  this  illustrious  family  never  lell  their  palace,  except 
m  a  carefully  closed  carriage. 

"  The  Orsini  and  tlie  Colonna  boasted  that,  for  centuries  no 
treaty  of  peace  had  been  concluded  between  the  Christian  princes 
m  which  they  had  not  been  included  by  name."-/2anA-.,  History 
of  the  Papary,  disfigured  hy  the  Ultramontane  Saint  Cheron 

But  already  Rome  saw  a  new  nobility  prosper  and  increase, 
tne  issue  of  nepotism. 

AU  the  popes,  from  however  low  a  station  they  were  taken 
considered  it  their  duty  to  found  a  famUy.     Not  content  with 
creaung  one  nephew  a  cardinal,  who  employed,  for  his  o^vn 


TIIK   ROMAN    NOBILITY. 


141 


profit,  all  the  prerogatives  of  the  Holy  See,  they  bestowed  on  an- 
other nephew  the  title  of  prince,  endowed  him  riclily  at  the 
expense  of  Italy  and  the  Catholic  universe,  married  him  to  some 
lieiress  of  feudal  stock,  and  constructed  for  him  one  of  those  pal- 
aces whose  insolent  splendor  we  now  admire. 

This  usage  became  so  well  estal^lished,  that  the  casuist  Oliva, 
a  Jesuit,  declared  that  Alexander  VII.  committed  a  sin  in  leaving 
liis  nephews  at  Sienna,  instead  of  calling  them  to  the  Court.  It 
is  well  known  with  what  docility  the  honest  Chigi  submitted  to 
the  obligation  of  advancing  his  family. 

This  squandering  of  th«  public  money  for  the  profit  of  par- 
ticular individuals  was  upheld  not  only  by  the  counsel  of  a  few 
courtiers,  but  by  the  example  of  the  most  illustrious  personages. 
Without  speaking  of  Alexander  VI.,  who  neglected  nothing  to 
enrich  and  aggrandize  his  family,  we  have  seen  the  ancient  father 
Sextus  Quintus  give  to  one  of  his  nephews  an  ecclesiastical  reve- 
nue of  five  hundred  thousand  francs,  to  another  a  principality, 
and  found  upon  a  solid  basis  the  house  of  Peretti.     Clement 
VIII.  did  no  less  for  his.     Jean  Fran9ois  Aldobrandini  enriched 
himself  so  Rapidly  as  to  give  tw^o  millions  in  dowry  to  his  daugh- 
ter.    The  fortune  of  the  Borghese  increased  still  more  rapidly 
under  tlie  reign  of  Paul  V.   They  received  five  millions  of  francs, 
acquired  the  finest  properties  in  the  Roman  States,  and  obtained 
signorial  privileges  of  incalculable  value.     Gregory  XV.  had  per- 
mitted his  nephew  Ludovici  to  receive  a  million  a  year  in  nothing 
but  ecclesiastical  revenue.     This  pope,  who  reigned  two  years 
and  five  montlis,  gave  to  his  family  lour  millions  of  francs  in 
luoghi  de  mordi,  which  was  wortli  so  much  ready  money.     Urban 
VIII.  did  better  still  for  the  Barberini.     His  tliree  brothers  ac- 
quired so  many  benefices  and  esUtes,  that  tlieir  annual  reve- 
nue was  valued   at  two   and  a  half  million  francs.     If  it  bo 
impossible  to  suppose  that  the  Barberini  amassed  five  hundred 
and  twenty-five  millions  under  tlie  pontificate  of  their  uncle,  it 
was  something,  at  least,  that  the  writers  of  the  time   should 
have  advanced  so  monstrous  a  figure. 

It  was  fUler  such  examples  that  the  brother  of  Donna  Olympia, 
Inuoctint  X.,  was,  so  to  say,  constrained  to  found  the  house  of 
Pampliilli.  The  casuists  and  the  jurists  removed  liis  scrupks, 
for  there  were  some.  They  proved  to  him  that  the  pope  had 
the  right  to  economize  the  revenues  of  the  Holy  See  to  assure 


*■  ■**»; ,  'HMjaUv^i, 


142 


KOME   OP  TO-DAY. 


the  fortune  of  his  famUy.  They  fixed,  ,vith  a  moderation  which 
makes  our  hair  stand  on  end,  the  figure  of  tl,«  liberahties  per- 
mitted to  each  pope.  According  to  them,  the  sovereign  pontiff 
could  without  abuse,  establish  a  m.-.jorat  worth  four  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  net  income,  found  a  second  geniture  in  favor  of  some 
relauve  m  less  advantageous  circumstances,  and  give  a  dowry  of 
nine  hundred  thousand  francs  to  each  of  his  neices.  The  d.ief 
of  the  Jesuits,  R.  P.  Vitelleschi,  approved  of  this  decision. 

Thereupon  Innocent  X.  set  to  work  to  foun.l  the  house  of 
Pamphilh,  to  construct  the  palace  Pamphilli,  and  to  create  the 
Tilla  Pamphilh,  and  to  pamphillize,  as  well  as  he  could,  the 
finances  of  the  Church  and  State. 

Clement  IX.,  who  distributed  three  millions  in  the  first  months 
of  his  reign,  was  accused  of  neglecting  his  family ;  still  he  founded 
the  fortunes  of  the  Eospigliosi. 

Clement  X  was  not  useless  to  the  grandeur  of  the  Altieri. 
The  austere  Innocent  XI.  did  not  prevent  the  progress  of  the 
Odelcalchi.  Clement  XII.  aided  the  Corsini  to  make  the  future 
which  IS  to-day  one  of  the  most  imposing  in  llome,  and  nepot- 
ism did  not  disappear  from  the  pontifical  habits  until  after  the 
reign  of  Pius  VI.  and  the  Braschi 

The  popes  of  the  nepotic  period  neglected  nothing  to  ally  their 
nephews  to  the  most  ancient  families.  This  is  why  we  see  a 
house  Doria-PamphiUi,  a  house  Borghese-Aldobran.lini,  a  house 
Barberim-Colonna,  a  house  PaUavicini-Rospigliosi,  a  house  Bon- 
compagni-Ludovici,  and   a  houso  Boncompagni-Ludovici-Otto- 

The  founder  of  a  new  family  took  care  to  institute  a  majorat  • 
that  IS  to  say,  an  inahenable  capital,  transmissiUJe  from  male  to 
male,  and  destined  to  perpetuate,  indefinitely,  the  splendor  of  his 
name. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  we  see  sucli  a  house,  rich  in  land, 
palaces,  viilas,  and  galleries,  but  indebted  beyond  measure  bear' 
mg  heavily  a  great  name  without  fortune,  and  an  enormous  cap- 
ital without  revenue.  In  order  to  liquidate,  and  satisfy  its  cred- 
itors  by  the  sale  of  some  pictures  or  real  estate,  it  is  necessary  to 
tiave  a  special  act  of  the  pope,  who  can  do  everything 

It  has  also  been  tlie  good  pleasure  of  the  sovereign  pontiffs  to 
introduce  some  rich  parvenus  into  the  Koman  aristocracy 

A  baker  by  Uie  name  of  GrazioU  made  a  great  fortune,  and 


THE   ROMAN   NOBILITY. 


143 


the  pope  ordered  that  lie  should  be  inscribed  upon  the  hst  of  the 
Eomarpatricians.  He  bought  a  barony,  and  the  pope  made 
him  a  baron ;  he  bought  him  a  duchy,  and  behold  him  Duke 
Grazioli ;  his  son  married  a  Lantc  do  la  Rovere. 

An  ancient  domestic  became  a  speculator  and  a  banker,  bought 
a  niarquisate,  then  a  principality.  He  created  a  majorat  for  h.3 
oldest  son,  and  a  second  geniture  in  favor  of  tlie  other.  One 
married  a  Sforza  Cesarini,  and  married  his  two  sons  to  a  Chigi 
and  a  Eu.polL  The  other  got  for  a  wife  a  Colouna  Dona.  It 
is  tlius  Uiat  Uie  family  Torlonia,  by  the  power  of  money  and  the 
lavor  of  Uie  pope,  was  suddenly  elevated  to  the  height  of  the 
irreatest  nepotic  and  feudal  houses. 

A  tobacconist  made  a  fortune,  and  became  Marquis  Ferraiuolu 
A  director  of  a  mont-de-piete  made  his  fortune,  and  became 
Marquis  Carapana.  A  country  merchant  acquired  a  fortune, 
and  became  Marquis  CalabrinL  The  Macchl  di  Viterbo  were 
millers  before  being  genUemen.  The  father  of  all  the  Counts 
AntoneUi  was  a  peasant,  steward,  accountant,  and  forcstaUer  be- 
fore obtaining  letters  of  nobiUty.  ,  •  , . 
The  near  relaUons  of  a  pope  are  aU  nobles  by  natural  right 
The  cardinals  and  simple  prelates  also  endeavor  to  raise  their 

relatives  to  Uie  nobility. 

Benedict  XIV.  and  Pius  IX.  have  taken  care  to  consohdate 
tlie  barriers  which  separate  the  noble  caste  from  the  mezzo  ceto; 
"considering,"  say  they,  "that  tlie  disUnction  of  classes  .3  the 
best  ornament  of  states.     ...  mi 

Sixty  noble  families  are  inscribed  at  tlie  Capitol.  To  an  her- 
aldic convention,  instituted  by  Pius  IX.,  is  committed  the  care  of 
verifyin-  the  titles.  If  Uie  pontifical  government  was  more  firmly 
esUblished  in  Italy  I  would  give  some  good  advice  to  all  our 
parvenus  of  commerce  and  the  Bourse. 

lu.iead  of  usurping  Utles  or  parUcles  which  the  French  tribu- 
nals  Im-e  sometimes  tlie  impudence  to  take  from  them,  they  nee(i 
only  transport  tliemselves  to  the  States  of  the  pope.  I  here  are 
ia  this  country  a  good  number  of  cliateaux  to  sell,  without  comiU 
in.  Uie  more  important  domains.  The  purchase  of  a  shed  a 
ruTns  might  raise  a  servant  to  the  title  of  prince,  if  the  holy 
ikther  does  not  say  no. 

We  read  in  the  Roman  directory : 

*'  The  lamily  MonUiolon  cfe  S^monville  iiJ  one  of  the  most  illua- 


itf'i.JS-S 


144 


ROiTE   OF  TO-DAY. 


THE   ROMAN   NOBILITY. 


145 


trious  of  France.  The  Prince  D.  Louis-Desir<5,  scion  of  tliia 
house,  has.  by  buying  the  chateau  of  Precetto  in  ITmhria,  become 
a  Roman  prince." 

I  hear  it  said  around  me,  that  to  obtain  the  same  honor  it  is 
not  necessary  to  be  descended  from  one  of  the  mo<t  ilhistrious 
families  of  France.  It  is  sufficient  to  come  to  Rome  with  a  few 
millions. 

The  country  nobility,  after  having  been  extraordinarily  rich, 
has  fallen  into  a  sort  of  grandiose  mediocrity.  They  have  im- 
mense domains,  a  magnihcent  palace  at  Rome,  a  splendid  villa 
in  the  suburbs,  some  chateaux  in  the  provinces,  one  or  two  ^A- 
leries  which  are  the  admiration  of  strangers ;  but  all  this  fortune 
composes  an  inalienable  majorat.  They  are  forcefl  to  preserve  and 
even  take  care  of  it.  The  revenues  which  should  suffice  are 
encumbered  with  a  thousand  and  one  mortgages :  they  owe  not 
only  their  creditors  but  even  their  ancestors.  This  one  has  founded 
a  chapter  of  priests ;  that  one  has  endowed  a  college,  decorated  a 
chapel ;  tlie  chapel,  the  college,  and  the  chapter  are  so  many  in- 
creasing burdens,  which  weigh  upon  the  poor  heir.  It  followg 
from  this  tliat  the  disposable  revenues  of  the  most  illustrious  fam- 
ilies is  not  in  proportion  with  the  need  of  their  rank. 

The  Corsini  have  500.<X)0  francs,  net  revenue ;  the  Bo: 
450.000;  the  Ludovici  350.000  ;  the  GrazioU  350.000 ;  tlie  Dona 
325.000;  the  P         Mosi  250,000;    the   Colonna  200,000;  the 
Odescalohi  200.1K.>U  ;  the  ^lassino  2»  Patrizi  I50.'o00 ; 

the  Orsini  100,000 ;  the  Strozzi  lOO.UuO. 

There  are  but  two  famihes  whose  revenues  are,  so  to  speak 
unlimited ;  these  are  the  f;imi!y  Torlonio,  and  the  family  Ant^J 
nelU.  The  Antonelli  are  the  richer,  if  we  may  believe  the 
Prince  Torionia,  but  they  are  not  willing  to  acknowledge  it. 
They  deny  it  as  if  it  were  a  crime.  I  never  knet^  why. 
^  Rich  or  poor,  a  Roman  prince  is  forced  to  hold  his  rank.  Ap- 
pearance is  the  first  of  his  duties.  It  is  necessarv  that  the  front 
of  his  palace  be  kept  in  repair,  that  the  tiT>nr  -  have  a  grand 

air,  that  the  gallery  should  not,  by  ^  ,  on,  excite  the  com- 
passion of  strangers.  It  is  necessixry  that  tlie  lackeys  should  be 
numerous,  that  the  liveries  be  not  wanting  in  br^^ .  that  the 
carriages  be  freshly  painted,  the  horses  wellfed,  should  the  mas- 
ter be  obliged  to  retrench  a  plate  from  his  dinner.  It  is  necessary 
that  the  dependents  of  his  house  be  assisted  in  case  of  need,  and 


1 


iV> 


that  the  beggars  bless  the  generosities  of  the  lord.  It  is  requi- 
site that  the  toUets  of  monsieur  and  madame  be  not  only  ele- 
gant but  rich ;  for  really  the  nobility  ought  not  to  be  confounded 
with  Uie  viezzo  ceto.  Every  year  a  grftnd,  stupid,  and  splendid 
fete  must  be  given,  which  will  consume,  in  candles,  a  quarter  of 
the  annual  income.  If  any  of  these  requisites  are  wanting 
tliey  will  fall  to  the  rank  of  fallen  lords,  caduti,  who  conceal 
themselves  and  are  forgotten. 

By  what  miracles  of  secret  economy  can  these  poor  rich  be 
enabled  to  balance  their  budget  to  a  true  equilibrium  ?    This  is 
a  complicated  and  melancholy  history.    They  are  condemned 
every  year  for  seven  or  eight  monUis  to  country  hfe.     They  hvo 
with  an  Italian  sobriety  even  in  Rome,  in  this  great  palace  which 
has  its  enormous  kitchens.     They  do  better  still ;  the  ma.ster  of 
the  house,  the  heir  of  a  feudal  baron,  or  a  nephew  of  the  pope,  is 
the  chef  de  bureau  in  his  own  house.     He  locks  himself  up  six 
hours  a  day  with  clerks ;  he  overlooks,  himself,  the  list  of  receipts 
and  expenses ;   he  carefully  examines  the  leases ,    he  re-reads 
the  tides ;  he  blackens  his  fingers  m  the  dust  of  parchments.   To 
shun  the  inevitable  leakage  which  wastes  the  largest  fortune  he 
employs  his  Ule  in  making  additions.     Still  every  one  plunders 
him,  and  the  clerks  finish  by  enriching  themselves  at  his  expense, 
for  most  frequenUy  he  is  neither  educated  nor  capable. 

How  has  he  learned  to  protect  his  property  or  to  mcrease  lU 
^Vhen  a  mere  child,  he  was  committed  to  tlie  care  of  the  R.  F^ 
P  P  Jesuits,  if,  however,  they  did  not  think  it  nobler  to  keep 
him  at  home  under  the  stick  of  the  Abbe.  His  preceptor  or  his 
pr,.fe..^rs  taught  him  Latin,  UUes-htires,  sacred  history,  heraldry, 
respect  for  the  authorities,  submission  to  the  will  of  the  Church, 
Uie  practice  of  the  ClirL^tian  virtues,  hatred  of  revolutions,  the 
elory  of  his  ancestors,  and  the  privUeges  which,  by  tlie  grace  ot 
God,  he  inherits.  He  regards  tlie  hberties  and  the  sciences  of 
our  a-e  as  inventions  of  the  enemy  of  mankind.  At  home  he  is 
good,  kind,  simple-hearted,  solter  than  wax,  and  whiter  than 

snow.  ,  ^ 

When  he  is  grown  up,  they  give  him  a  horse,  a  Geneva 
watch,  ^Wth  a  chain  of  Mortimer  or  Casteliani,  a  new  coat  cut  m 
the  last  style  of  the  ParL^ian  .Ufred  or  London  Poole  He  ac- 
quires the  habit  of  making  caUs,  promenading  on  the  Co^^^ 
ie  Pincian  at  the  hour  when  the  htav^n^nd^  shows  itself,  and  ot 


^M 


146 


ROME    OF   TO-DAY. 


frequenting  the  theaters  and  fashionable  churches.     He  affiliatef« 
with  two  or  three  religious  sets,  whose  reunions  he  follows  up  with 
assiduity.     He  has  not  traveled,  he  has  read  nothing,  he  has 
escaped  the  passions,  doi/bts,  and  interior  tumults  of  youth.     Be- 
tween his  twenty-second  and   twenty-fifth  year  the  respected 
will  of  his  father  married  him,  without  love,  to  a  younir  girl  of 
good  family  just  from  the  convent,  as  simple  and  as  ignorant  as 
himself.     He  has  children— plenty  of  children.     He  brinies  them 
up  as  his  parents  reared  him.     He  teaches  the  oldest  that  his 
brothers  owe  him  obedience  ;  he  teaches  the  younger  sons  tliat 
they  are  the  very  humble  servants  of  their  elder  brother.     He 
puts  his  daughters  into  the  same  convent  where  their  mother 
learned  ignorance.     He  tells  his  beads  with  tlie  family  every  day 
that  God  grauLs,  and  asks  from  heaven  the  continuation  of  an 
order  of  thmgs  so  happy,  so  noble,  and  perfect. 

Notwithstanding  all  the  irregularities  Uiat  education  has  given 
him,  he  IS  wanting  neither  in  goodness  nor  in  elevation  of  souL 
He  gives  away  as  much  and  even  more  tlian  his  resources  per- 
mit All  miseries,  real  or  false,  move  his  heart  and  loosen  the 
strings  of  his  purse.  He  does  ^ot  know  the  pictures  of  his  gal- 
lep',  but  he  opens  his  gallery  to  the  public.  He  knows  not 
what  to  do  with  his  park  or  his  villa,  which  ruin  him,  but  his 
park  and  lus  viUa  are  open  to  Romans  and  strangers.  ^Vhen  he 
IS  called  upon  to  be  represented  in  a  Congress  or  to  fete  the  re*- 
toration  of  legitimate  authorities,  he  gives  one  hundred  thousand 
Irancs  to  his  ambassador,  hke  the  Prince  Piombino,  or  he  offers 
to  the  people  of  Rome  a  banquet  of  one  million  two  hundred 
thousand,  like  the  Prince  Borghese. 

I  avow  that  the  nobility  is  I  slightly  decaying  element  of  the 
Roman  population.    Their  most  remarkable  qualities  are  negative 
quahlies,  such  as  submission  and  politeness.    1  do  not  think  tliey 
lack  courage,  but  their  courage  has  not  had,  for  a  long  time  an 
opportunity  to  show  iL^lf.     However,  tliey  are  neither  contemn- 
tible  nor  odious.     The  Italian  Revolution  was  wrong  in  making 
any  dependence  upon  a  worn-out  and  resourceless  caste,  but  it 
would  be  unpardonable  to  do  or  to  wish  it  any  evil.     A  93 
Roman,  who  would  confiscate  these  open  and  h.     '     ■  le  palacea. 
would  deserve  the  blame  of  all  the  honest  people  ol  Europe      A 
Marat  who  would  deliver  to  the  executioner  those  fine  heads, 
Bmilmg  and  empty,  would  be  the  most  absurd  of  criminals 


•mE   EOMAN   NOBILITY. 


147 


' 


And  the  women  of  the  nobiUty  ?  There  is  hllle  to  be  sa.d, 
for  or  a^rainst  their  virtue.  Cicisbcism  has  gone  out  of  fashion 
wuh  nepotism.  The  shameful  licentiousness  which  flourished  in 
the  first  years  of  tlie  nineteenth  century,  has  given  place  to 

becoming  manners.  ,        ^u  •    u,,- 

Here  as  everj-where,  the  women  are  better  than  their  hus- 
bands. '  It  is  not  because  they  read  more,  nor  that  they  have 
been  differently  reared.  All  their  superiority  comes  from  nature, 
which  has  better  endowed  the  amiable  than  the  strong  sex 

Almost  every  day  I  take  a  drive,  which,  beginning  at  the 
Villa  Bor-hese,  continues  to  the  Pincian,  and  ends  on  the  Corso, 
after  sunset.     My  inseparable  companion  is  a  French  engmeer,  a 
man  of  good  sense  and  observation,  who  has  been  in  Rome  a 
long  time,  and  knows  by  sight  almost  all  the  nobihty.    It  has 
not  been  necessary  for  him  to  point  out  to  me  that  air  of   azy 
and  self-satisfied  nullity  which  distinguishes  at  least  one  hall  ol 
the  aristocracy.     But  when  our  attention  is  given  to  the  women, 
it  is  quite  different.    They  are  not  only  beautiful  and  elegant 
but  Uieir  eyes,  their  atUtudes,  their  gestures,  everytbng  about 
them,  indicates  an  indescribable  sometlung  unsubdued,  and  a 
Lcre   revolt  against  nullity.     Poor  women  1     Brought  up  m  the 
Tde  of  a  convent,  married  without  love  to  --e-  'XT, 
ducer  who  burdens  them  with  family,  they  are,  »<>  heighten  th^ 
misery,  condemned  to  a  life  of  icy  representation,  full  of  ^  isits,  rev 
™  and  emptiness.     Eveothing  is  duty  for  U.em,  even  to 
Te^  d^ily  promenade.     The  trade  of  women  of  the  world,  su 
a^'s  imposed  upon  them,  leaves  no  place  for  love,  nor  even  .or 

'"rS'^here  allude,  in  a  few  words,  to  the  spirit  of  the  three 
cUus^cs  that  live  in  Rome  under  the  domination  of  the  clerf^. 

This  population  is  not  worse  bom,  nor  worse  endowed  nor 
less  worthy  to  recover  its  independence,  '^^f  .t'^^^';  '  ^/ *! 
luUan  natfon.     But  care  has  been  t-.ken  to  bring  j    up  other 
wise,  and  to  pluck  from  it,  as  from  a  well-weeded  fi«>J.  ^ '  ^l^^^J 
idea.s  all  vigorous  sentiments  that  might  grow  up  in  their  souls 
ThU  bad  «-eed  has-thank  God-aKvays  sprung  up  again,  but 
lo^  flwand  stunted  than  it  should  have  been.     The  Roman 
nobThty  is  more  of  a  nullity,  U.e  Roman  people  poorer  and  more 
r™t;  even  the  middle  class  offers  fewer  resources  for  Rome, 


]MS^M$^xiM!h4^^ixi^00ibif':L:^i^  ^4%f 


148 


EOALE   OF  TO-DAY. 


than  in  any  other  city  of  Italy.    And  still,  tho  middle  class  is 
here  the  only  element  which  may  be  counted  upon. 

Furthermore,  it  must  be  said,  that  the  population  of  Rome  in 
the  aggregate,  is  not  positively  opposed  to  the  temporal  power 
ro-cay,  as  always,  they  have  for  the  popes  a  friendship,  unequal* 
crochetty,  divided  by  discontent  and  anger.     The  real  advan- 
tages drawn  from  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Father,  the  expenses 
of  the  court,  and  tlie  wealth  of  strangers,  often  counterbalance 
m  their  eyes  the  disagreeable  part  of  servitude.      It  may  be 
that  drawn  into  the  ItaUan  movement,  they  will  begin  a-ain 
the  nsks  and  perils  of  Uie  revolution  of  1849 :  but  I  shall  not  bo 
astonished  if  they  regret  their  masters  after  havin-  driven  them 
away ;  for  Rome  is  not  only  the  victim,  it  is  also  associated  with 
tlie  temporal  power,  very  different  in  that  respect  from  Ancona 
iiologna,  and  so  many  other  cities  which  pay  the  expense  of 
despotism  without  sharing  in  the  profits.     I  think,  then,  that  Uie 
dehverance  of  Rome,  although  it  may  be  desired  by  some  of  its 
citizens,  13  more  necessary  lor  the  reorganization  of  Italy  Uian 
conformable  to  the  prayera  of  the  Romans. 

Universal  suflrago  will  decide  this  delicate  question  better 
than  myself.    It  is  that  I  wish  to  consult 


Wn 


XI. 


THE     ARMY. 


T  DO  not  say  that  we  arc  all  heroes  in  our  dear  France,  but  I 
l     think  that  wc  all  have  a  little  of  the  soldier. 

It  is  very  well  to  reason  and  philosophize  ;  say  that  man  is  not 
created  to  kill  man;  execrate  the  instruments  of  destruction  in 
proportion  as  they  become  more  perfect,  and  applaud  the  excel- 
lent ideas  of  Mr.  Cobden :  some  fine  morning  we  perceive  that 
we  are  bom  with  little  red  pantaloons,  and  that  all  the  other 
garments  we  have  worn  were  only  disguises. 

In  the  month  of  July,  in  the  year  1853,  I  thought  myself  per- 
fectly imbued  with  the  ideas  which  the  peace  congress  preached. 
I  arrived  in  Rome  ;  a  French  battalion  defiled,  with  music  at  the 
head,  upon  the  Quirinal.  The  uniform,  the  music,  the  fiag— all 
this  apparatus  of  war,  which  had  never  sensibly  moved  me,  they 
affected  mo,  I  know  not  why,  in  the  secret  depths  of  the  soul. 
It  was  two  years  since  I  had  left  France ;  the  image  of  my  own 
country  vividly  appeared  to  me ;  my  eyes  filled.  I  watched  the 
flag ;  it  was  more  resplendent  than  the  labaruin  of  Constantme. 
I  looked  down  at  my  pantaloons ;  tliey  were  red,  aU  red,  and  of 
so  fine  a  red  that  I  wept  on  seeing  them. 

There  is,  if  I  am  not  deceived,  a  pontifical  flag,  with  the  keys 
of  St.  Peter  in  the  center.  It  is  a  flag  well  preserved  and  in 
fine  condition.  The  balls  and  the  bullets  have  not  left  any  holes 
in  it ;  but  if  any  one  should  tell  me  that  a  Roman  had  wept  at 
the  siMit  of  it,  I  should  be  very  much  astonished. 

Do'you  remember  the  fig-tree  that  was  in  the  garden  of  the 
misanthi-ope  Tiiiion  ?  All  the  Athenians  wished  U>  hang  them- 
selves  upon  it,  because  a  good  number  of  young  and  healthy  men 
had  aheady  been  hung  Uiere.     The  flag  of  the  pope  is  a  fig-tree 


150 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


upon  which  no  one  has  thought  to  hang  himself,  because  no  one 
has  been  hung  there. 

This  is  why  the  conscription,  which  has  a  place  in  our  cus- 
toms, as  well  as  in  our  laws,  will  not  for  a  long  time  be  a  Roman 
usage.  France  can  say  to  the  young  men  of  twenty  :  "  Come 
here  and  draw  a  lot.  Those  who  obtain  a  small  number  will  take 
care  of  their  red  pantaloons ;  the  others  will  be  authorized  to  take 
black  pantaloons." 

The  children  of  our  country  are  never  so  happy,  in  fact,  as  when 
they  play  soldier.  Roman  infants  play  priest.  They  say  little 
masses  and  organize  little  processions.  They  are  dressed  as  abbes 
when  tliey  have  been  well-behaved ;  ours  look  forward  to  New 
Year's  day  for  a  gun,  a  sword,  or  at  least  a  drum. 

Is  that  saying  that  the  French  are  braver  than  the  Romans  ? 
Certainly  not  The  Italian  race,  which  formerly  conquered  the 
world,  is  to-day  one  of  the  most  masculine  and  most  energetic  of 
Europe.  The  Romans  are  Italians  as  well  born  as  the  others, 
but  differently  brought  up. 

The  prince  who  reigns  at  Rome,  ought  to  have  no  need  of 
soldiers.  Spiritually  he  peacefully  governs  the  minds  of  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty-nine  millions  of  men,  which  is  quite  handsome. 
Temporally,  he  administers  a  domain  which  amply  suffices  for 
all  his  wants.  Should  he  seek  to  extend  or  to  round  it  out  by 
conquests,  he  would  commit  a  mortal  sin,  and  put  himself  to  the 
necessity  of  danming  himself.  The  question  of  natural  frontiers 
does  not  furnish  him  with  a  sufficient  excuse,  for,  finally,  his  king- 
dom is  a  donation  from  some  pious  persons.  One  does  not  look 
a  gift  horse  in  the  mouth. 

The  pope  has  no  need  of  soldiers,  nor  of  conquest,  nor  even 
of  defense ;  for  his  neighbors  are  Catholic  princes,  who  will  make 
it  a  matter  of  conscience  to  arm  themselves  against  an  inoffen- 
sive old  man. 

Why,  then,  has  the  pope  an  army  ?  To  repress  the  discontent 
of  his  own  subjects.  But  it  is  evident  that  the  Romans  would 
not  be  discontented,  and  that  the  pope  would  not  need  arms,  if 
the  pope  governed  his  States  in  a  manner  satisfactory  to  the 
Romans. 

If  the  pope  thinks  himself  forced  to  raise  an  army,  it  is  doubt- 
less because  the  Romans  are  discontented.  If  tlio  Romans  are 
discontented  it  is,  according  to  every  appearance,  because  tlio 


THE  ARMY. 


151 


government  of  Uie  pope  does  not  do  what  is  necessary  to  make 
tliem  contented. 

I  suppose  that  tlie  Romars  are  very  difficult  to  please,  or  that 
the  pope  has  not  the  time  to  satisfy  them,  since  he  finds  it  shorter 
and  more  economical  to  raise  an  army,  which  frightens  his  sub- 
jects. 

But  here  a  new  difficulty  is  raised.     The  Romans  are  not  dis- 
posed to  clothe  themselves  with  red  pantaloons  and  shoulder  a 
gun  for  the  service  of  the  pope.     Whv  ?  do  you  ask  ?    But  pre-    . 
cisely  for  the  reason  that  I  tell  you,  because  they  are  discontented. 

The  pope,  wlio  is  an  absolute  sovereign,  can  decree  a  conscrip- 
tion. But  this  novelty  would  redouble  the  discontent,  and  the 
end  will  be  missed. 

Moreover  the  conscription  is  a  source  of  fear  to  the  ponti- 
fical government.  An  army  recruited  by  this  means  would  be- 
long less  to  the  pope  than  to  the  nation.  This  is  the  very  thing 
to  be  avoided. 

Sixty  francs  of  bounty  to  all  the  Romans  who,  of  their  own 
will,  consent  to  put  on  the  red  pantaloons  in  the  service  of  the 

pope ! 

Sixty  francs,  that  is  very  modest.  At  that  price  one  can  not 
buy  choice  men.  If  you  were  a  wagon-boy,  a  hod-carrier  under 
the  order  of  a  mason,  would  you  not  prefer  this  relative  liberty 
to  tlie  servitude  of  tlie  miUtary  life  ?  And  will  sixty  francs  make 
the  balance  yield  ? 

The  French  enhst  voluntarily.  We  see  young  men  of  good 
family,  coming  out  of  college,  sliding  their  bachelor's  diploma 
into  tlie  cartridge-box  of  the  soldier,  and  spiritedly  go  wherever 
their  country  stmds  them.  If  any  one  should  offer  sixty  francs 
to  these  voluntary  recruits,  they  would  respond  that  it  was  too 
much  and  too  httle.  But  we  are  a  mihtary  people.  The  youth 
of  our  country  love  their  country  as  a  mistress ;  they  do  not  fear 
being  killed  in  the  sight  of  her  fine  eyes. 

The  native  country  for  a  well-born  Roman  is  Italy.  The  pope 
is  not  his  country— the  pope  is  not  Italy.  Those  who  would 
willingly  put  on  tlie  red  pantaloons  for  the  defense  of  Italy,  are 
not  willing  to  disguise  themselves  as  soldiers  for  the  defense  of 
the  pope.  It  is  even  said,  in  certain  circles,  that  the  pope  and 
Italy  are  not  the  best  friends  in  the  world,  and  that  to  enter  into 
the  service  of  one  would  be  to  render  a  bad  service  to  the  other. 


152 


ROME  OP  TO-DAY. 


THE  AKMT. 


153 


Agreed  it  is  an  error,  an  absurdity ;  I  hope  so.  But  it  is  be- 
Leved  m  the  States  of  the  Holy  Father ;  anV  they  rep  y  to  te 
ree™t,n,  „mee,.:    "I  .,„  not  sell   n,y  cuntj  f^r'tweWe 

crowns  "'f  i  7'°'"'^  of  ™i^i"S  the  enlistment  bounty  to  twenty 

franT"  will  nn  f  '"'^Tr"  ""^  "''""'^-     ^  """^  "^  '^  ^^''M 
trancs  wiU  not  be  much  better  tl.an  a  man  of  sixty 

Jt  you  wish  to  create  an  army,  recruit  it  amon^  honest  people 
In  J  ranee  a  sokher  ought,  above  all,  to  be  a  man  of  n.oanr  Tl  e 
mos  absolute  conOdenee  rei,=n>s  in  the  barracks.  The  "malic  t 
tl.eft  ,s  p„n,shed  with  a  rigor  wisely  niagnif.ed.     An  indS' 

t:t;i:";*x:  '"^ ''"''-'  ^°""--"-'  '^  -  ^--^ 

The  pontifical  government  is  very  ea^y  re-ardin-  the  elnraeter 
of  Its  volunteer  recruits.  They  are  ask^d,  indee.!;  for  ferUfi. 
cate  of  good  conduct,  signed  by  the  cur6  of  their  pari.*  ■  but  the 
curees  do  not  scruple  to  guarantee  the  morality  of  the  worst  ndi- 
viduals  so  long  as  it  concerns  sending  them  to  the  arn  v  IW 
get  nd  of  them  at  the  cost  of  a  little  fib,  and  all  is  said  ThI 
nbunaks  themselves,  if  they  are  in  pursuit  ;f  a  seou  d"^  do  nol 

W^ut""  '"^  --^-S- J-aica.  punisliment,  di^ 

nar^tlvffr,?'™'',""  ^^^^n-ited,  partly  from  the  milit..ry  and 
partly  f  om  the  e.vdians.     With  the  civilians  they  are  treated  no 

wot'     i?,     ;  ?r  """'  '""''^-    '^ '"'  "-  -i^"-y  "  -  --h 
worse      The  chef  de  corps  are  invited  to  designate  the  soldiers 

woltr    r  '"':  '"-'  P^'''^"  ^"■'"■'^'•y-   Thej-reeommen"  S 
worst  subjects  m  order  to  get  rid  of  them 

soilr'  r,'  """"  /°  '""^  "'"'  ^  '''^" ''"'  '^"''n  committed  by  a 
soldie  ,  and  even  by  one  of  the  armed  police.  Why  sl.ould  it  bo 
expected  that  n,en  of  bad  character  U...ome  honest  in  the  Lr 
uec  ?  Aetther  good  conduct,  nor  lengU,  of  time  spen  under 
U>e  flag,  nor  mentorious  actions,  nor  personal  instn>c^on  aSc 
auythmg  for  advancenient.  It  is  n.ado  by  the  prelates  u^nle 
recommendation  of  other  prelates  "iwn  me 

I  am  assured  that  in  lS49thcre'was  more  discipline  and  prrv 
b.ty  )n  U.e  revolutionary  troop  of  Garibaldi  than  in  the  e-^uW 
■-^Y.  of  tl.e  pope.  The  theft  of  a  coral  necklace  o/a Lm  a 
uoUimg,  was  immediately  punished  with  deatlt  ' 


I  have  met  with  plenty  of  gcnsd'armes  who  did  not  kno^y 

'  mrt  copper  pieces  of  five  sous  ---^'^''7-^7    , 
circulation,  all  this  debased  coin  was  sent  to  Rome.     A  deto^' " 
ment  of  gcnsd'armes  escorted  each  convoy,  the   pensdarm.s 
opened  some  sacs  and  hghtcned  the  load  of  the  wagons.    A  gen- 

1  d'arme  informed  me.  ,      ,  r   „     Ti,„a 

It  may  happen  that  a  bad  cause  recruits  good  soldmi-s.  Thus 
the  Kin.'  of  Naples  made  a  very  pres..ntable  army  Duty  is  not 
tlie  sole  moving  power  of  man.  We  have  less  noble  and  equally 
powerful  ones,  like  pride,  for  example,  and  ambition.  A\  hcrever 
advancement  is  given  to  merit,  the  soldier  seeks  to  deserve  ad- 

vanccment.  .    ,         , 

In  the  Papal  States  the  soMier  is  nothing.  Uc  is  less  than 
nothin-'.  Two  examples  from  a  thousand.  A  coachman  was 
drivin.."  his  master  to  the  theater,  and  refused  the  contersign; 
Uie  se"ntinel  demanded   it,  the  coachman  whipped  up  lus  horses 

and  passed  on,  saying, 

»  Do  your  duty  as  a  soldier,  and  leave  me  to  attend  to  mme  as 

a  servant." 

The  livei-y  is  nobler  than  the  uniform ! 

A  Roman  merchant  in  a  small  way.  gave  an  evening  party. 
A  stranger  presented  himself;  he  was  the  son  of  the  l'""^-    "« 
was  engaged  in  the  army  of  fmanco,  was  a  custom-house  officen 
The  oldest  brother  went  to  receive  him  in  the  aute-chamber,  and 
beled  Mm  to  call  in  the  next  day;  they  had  invited  somo 
Frenchmen ;  there  wa.s  company  there ;  the  family  did  not  ..sh 
to  compromise  themselves  by  h.troduc.ng  a  so  dierl     Ihe  next 
•    mornin"  this  elder  brother  met  in  the  Piazza  d'Espagna  a  enm- 
.Xniployed  upon  the  public  works  of  the  Colonna    umiacu- 
Uta  1    ne  shook  hands  with  him  publicly.     The  f.-iend.h.p  of  a 
galley-slave  is  mucli  less  discrediuble  U.an  to  be  tl.e  relative  of 

a  goldier.  ^  ^♦:„,»  qc  fVio 

And  the  officers?  They  are  upon  the  same  foot  n?  as  tne 
oufer  civil  functionaries.  They  form  part  of  the  middle  class. 
Solu..y  does  not  receive  tl.cm,  and  holds  them  m  slight  esteem 
A  monk,  do  what  he  m..y,  will  always  be  tlie  superior  of  a 

'°T"e''.n-ade  of  colonel  is,  to  this  day,  the  highest  in  the  army. 
The  fuKtlons  of  U.e  general  are  filled  by  colonels.     The  title  13 


.  i_.rf    V  -  jJ j-i^k!c« ji..  4hAc'H'%^tiifr< 


«-  fj^ji-  .i'-if^'KSrVf'leA/ifC^til^ 


154 


KOILE   OF  TO-DAY. 


THE    ARMY. 


155 


a  Dominican,  a  Carthu^^ian  fnir  nr  «  Po.^    u     u   ^  "^^^''  ^^^^'^''^ 
The  di^iUm  nff}  '  Capuchin  bears  so  proudly. 

head  of  the  aJ-my!  *  ^"  ^^  ^«^'«>'^=t'cs  at  the 

To-day  I  June,  J  SoS)  the  njinistrv  of  war  U  f,n„  4  ^-.u 
or  obnoxious  men   held  in   .™,n      .  ^ '"'''  '^^ 

of  grave  indelica^iek   the  necSvt  r/fiT™"'"   ^'"^ 
but  nothing  i,  done.  "        ^'^'^"'^n  -^  '«ln"tted, 

W^tJfo^',I!\''"°""^''  ^■°''°'^''"'  ''f  "-^  French  artnv 
~~^r  >r    P=  '""'  '*  r^-^rganize  a.e  Roman  anrr     ^n' 

-I  nev  have '5uot-ppi-'.:».i  ir,  »,^.u-  >v:inout  us. 

hnveheat^fhralXil-^P;-;-  -ir  ^^^     ^ 

•he  ^venunent.  the  sbadowVThernlSe.  ^e  ^itf 
all  are  opposed  to  the  creation  of  a  pontifi.^  ILv  O  '  !  '' 
the  water.  ""^  ""^  ^nitructors,  all  has  fol'en  inw 

Still  I  should  do  tusuce  towns  P ->.„,-     m 
very  honorable  eSbri.     Th  v  Tt^v  X"  '  v'      \"t 

French  officers,  but  to  what  p  ^^     ."m   '  ^"  ^"^  ^« 

choice,  that  i3  to  say  favor,  above  ti^e'erad;  of  .  '  ""  ^^ 

i  he  specal  coT«  contain  some  d-- 

''--  •.vou'd 


maintain  their  rank  ahjrwhere.  The  offio^rs  of  the  engineer 
corps  are  excellent  theorists ;  they  want  nothing  but  practice. 

Even  practice  is  not  wanting  to  the  officers  of  artillery.  But 
tl-.e  gooil-will  and  the  talent  of  some  individuals  are  lost  forces  in 
an  army  without  a  future,  without  esj^ril  de  corps,  without  pride, 
without  devotion,  without  confidence  ;  where  one  can  not  count 
eitlier  upon  his  neighbor,  his  chief,  or  his  flag. 

The  school  of  cadets  was  established  to  furnish  officers.  It  is 
not  an  arL-t<x*ratic  institution,  as  the  name  might  lead  one  to 
Buppose.  The  Roman  aristocrac\'  no  more  cares  to  put  its  sons 
into  the  army  thian  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  thinks  of  sending 
its  children  to  the  droits-8*Mnif.  The  cadets  are  mainly  the  sons 
of  small  merchants,  or  the  children  of  officers. 

They  are  received  without  examination,  upon  some  person's 
simple  recommendation.  They  are  gently  instructed,  in  the 
Koman  fashion.  The  chaplain  of  the  army  carries  a  high  hand 
over  the  est  nent 

In  1S5S,  General  Goyon  v.-ishei  to  inspect  personally,  the 
shool  of  cadets.  He  confirmed  the  fact  that  certain  pupils 
c- >uld  not  make  a  division.  The  French  course  existed  only  in 
t;.' ir  programme:  the  professor  of  history,  after  seven  montlis* 
instruction,  still  dc.  .  in  the  fourth  or  fifth  day  of  the  creation 
of  the  world.  The  programme  made  no  mention  of  modern 
history.  The  house  was  badly  built  and  in  very  great  disorder. 
The  htrMiers  placed  at  the  piUow  of  each  student  were  wanting 
ill  holy  water.  General  Goyon  turned  to  one  of  tlie  employees, 
and  said  to  him  very  pleasantly : 

*•  What,  sir !  not  even  holy  water  ?" 

The  poor  man  naively  remarked :  '•  Your  excellency,  they  are 
now  making  some  fresh." 

The  Roman  soldiers  wear  the  same  uniform  as  ours.  There  is 
only  a  slight  dillerence  in  the  collar,  but  one  sufficiently  great  in 
tiie  l-earlng. 

Difficulties  someuc.es  arise  between  individuals  uc.0114.ng  to 
t:.e  two  armies.  Our  generals  severely  punish  these  fK>t-house 
quarrels. 

I  remember  that  a  Fren-ja  anJlery  officer  was  attacked  by 
f .  ur  Ss^liiers  of  the  Roman  infantry.     The  a.  jrs  ingeniously 

threw  their  sabres  at  him  so  as  to  reach  Lim  Irom  a  distance. 
Uc  picked  up  a  weapon  from  the  pavement,  ran  alter  his  enemy, 


156 


KOMK  OP  TO-DAY. 


and  cut  off  a  piece  of  a  nose  or  car.    The  general  bv  an  act  of 
perhaps  cxccssu-o  impartiality,  inflicted  upon  hfm  as  ,ln  ,^^ 
wounded  n,an,  a  month's  confinement  in  pHson!^     '         '"  "" 
Ihe  pontifical  army  costs  ten  millions  ner  ann,„„   „,  i  • 

CetrrSa  "'"^■?,-'  -■    ^^^^  -n'i  ■ 
our  nionc^.  '    "''^"^  "'""'"^''  ""'  '''  '"'^-  «<>-=thi„g  for 

■i".eeverywhcre%utpHncip^nnG™n:any''r:mrrL^^ 

given  himsell  the  trouble  to  equip  them.      Th.-y  are  ha^v    v 
treated  ;  they  are  even  submitted  to  the  bastinado  ^ 

rulS  m  tlXSntl^^t:;"^  '-''  '-'''  '  -  --  ^- 

arntv^Tr:  ^^'''"'^T'"'  "/ ^'^  '^^""'^  ^^'"^  ^°^r°™'  i"  ti.e  French 

amj      He  so  conducted  himseli;  and  cut  so  many  caper,  that 

he  chiefs  seriously  thought  of  cashiering  him      Wlnt ,  M  Z  ll 

Ha^«  forty  Germans,  and  entered  a.  omc;V;:tV'i  p;',:.! 


XII. 

THE    GOVERNMENT. 

IF  you  arc  curious  to  know  what  I  tliink  of  the  pontifical  gov- 
ernment, my  dear  reader,  the  thing  is  very  easy.  Make  a 
little  journey  to  Switzerland  or  Belgium.  Enter  the  first  book- 
store which  comes  to  hand,  and  ask  for  a  volume  entitled  The 
Jioman  Question — you  will  see  my  opinion  at  length,  in  the  clas- 
sic costume  of  Truth. 

That'which  I  printed  in  the  month  cf  April,  1859,  was  true, 
and  is  still  so.  I  retract  not  a  single  word,  but  prudence  forbids 
my  repeating  it.  If  I  allowed  myself  the  pleasure  of  giving  you 
the  second  edition  of  a  work  condemned  and  damned,  the  mag- 
istrates of  our  fine  city  would  seize  Rome  of  To-day  to  read  it 
at  their  case.  Perhaps  even  they  would  send  me  to  prison,  all 
the  time  agreeing  with  my  way  of  thinking. 

This  is  why  I  will  imitate  the  wise  reserve  of  scalded  cats, 
who  even  distrust  cold  water.  Behold  the  exact  copy,  and  with- 
out commentary,  of  the  statistical  information  which  was  fur- 
nished me  in  1858  by  a  devoted  chami)ion  of  the  temporal 
power : 

"  Our  holy  father,  Pope  Pius  IX.,  happily  reigning,  is  the  two 
hundred  and  filty-eighth  successor  of  the  prince  of  the  Apostles. 
He  was  born  at  Sinigaglia  the  13th  of  ^March,  1792,  of  the  noble 
family  of  the  Counts  Mastai  Ferretti.  His  exaltation  to  the  pon- 
tificate dates  from  the  IGth  June,  1846;  his  coronation,  the  21st 
June  ;  his  possession  the  28th  of  the  same  year. 

"  From  time  imiYiemorial,  the  Holy  Father  is  not  only  the 
spiritual  chief  of  the  Catholic  Church,  comprising  one  hundred 
and  thirty-nine  millions  of  souls,  but  also  the  temporal  sovereign 
of  the  Italian  State,  the  superficies  of  which  amounts  to  four 


158 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


THE   GOVERNxMEXT. 


159 


millions,  one  hundred  and  twenty-nine  thousand,  four  hundred 
and  seventy-six  hectare?,*  and  the  population  to  three  million 
one  hundred  and  twenty-four  thousand,  six  hundred  and  sixty- 
eight  men.     lie  unites  in  his  hands  the  powers  of  the  pontiff 
the  bishop,  and  the  sovereign. 

"  His  States,  which  are  the  guaranty  of  his  moral  independ- 
ence, belong  to  him  personally,  and  depend  upon  him  akmo.  He 
is  the  father  of  his  subjects,  and  he  has  over  them  the  rights  of  a 
father  over  his  children.  He  can  make  laws,  change  them,  or 
infringe  them.  The  only  limit  of  his  power  is  that  which  ho 
deigns  to  impose  upon  himself.  His  absolute  authority  is  tem- 
pered but  by  justice  and  his  goodness  of  heart. 

"  For  the  administration  of  the  general  affairs  of  the  church, 
the  Holy  Father  naturally  adds  the  sacred  college  of  Cardinals. 
The  Cardinals  form  around  him  various  congregations,  each  one 
of  which  exercises  a  special  function.  We  have  the  Roman  and 
universal  Holy  Inquisition,  the  Consistorial  Congregation,  the 
Apostolic  Visitation,  the  Congiegation  of  Bishops  and  Regulars, 
the  Council  of  Trent,  of  the  Revision  of  the  Provincial  Decrees 
of  Council,  of  the  Residence  of  Bishops,  of  the  State  of  Regulars 
of  the  Ecclesiastical  Immunities,  of  the  Propaganda,  of  tiie  In- 
dex, of  Sacred  Rites,  of  Ceremonials,  of  Regular  Discipline,  of 
Indulgences  and  Holy  Relics,  of  the  Examination  of  Bishops, 
of  the  Correction  of  the  Books  of  tlie  Oriental  Church,  of  the 
Venerable  Fabric  of  St.  Peter,  of  Loretto,  of  Extraonlinary  Ec- 
clesiastical Matters,  of  Studies,  of  the  Reconstruction  of  the 
Basilica  of  St.  Paul,  of  the  Peneiemeria,  of  the  Chancellerie, 
and  of  the  Apostolic  Daterie. 

"  For  the  government  of  temporal  matters,  the  Holy  Father 
reserves  the  right  to  promulgate  his  will  in  the  form  of  a  consU- 
tution  de  motu  propria^  de  chirografo  sovrano,  of  rescripts,  and 
all  tliat  of  which  he  judges  it  best  to  decide  by  force  of  law,  in 
the  present  or  the  future.  But  he  has  the  custom  of  referring 
his  current  affairs  to  the  charge  of  a  Cardinal  Secretary  of  Stiite. 
This  first  minister,  friend,  and  confidant  of  the  Holy  Father,  rep- 
resents tlie  sovereign  to  strangei-s  and  pontifical  subjects.'  He 
names  and  directs  the  diplomatic  personnel,  composed  of  cardi- 
nals or  prelates ;  he  publishes  in  the  State  the  edicts,  to  which 

•  Two  acres  one  rood  thirty-five  perches  make  a  hectare. 


, 


a  strict  obedience  is  due,  as  if  the  laws  emanated  directly  from 
the  Holy  Father.  He  confides  to  whomever  seems  good  to  him 
the  subaltern  portfolios  of  the  interior,  the  public  works,  finances, 
and  the  army.  The  ministers  are  not  colleagues  but  employees, 
for  he  is  cardinal  and  they  only  prelates.  He  it  is  who  appoints 
the  prelates  charged  to  administer  the  finances,  like  the  prefects 
of  your  departments. 

"  In  your  quality  of  Frenchman,  you  probably  know  the  or- 
ganization of  the  Gallic  church ;  but  it  differs  so  much  from  ours, 
that  my  words  will  be  like  a  sealed  letter  if  I  do  not  give  hero 
some  words  of  explanation. 

"  In  your  unfortunate  country,  overturned  by  a  long  series  of 
revolutions,  the  clergy,  despoiled  of  their  property  and  their 
privileges,  are  compelled  to  confine  themselves  to  tlicir  spiritual 
domain.  A  French  seminarist,  ailer  having  received  the  sacra- 
ment of  the  order,  departs  as  a  curate  into  a  miserable  village, 
where  he  feeds  some  Hock  in  wooden  shoes.  The  skeptical  gov- 
ernment, that  treats  upon  a  footing  of  perfect  equality  the  min- 
isters of  all  religious,  inscribes  in  its  budget  this  priest  of  the 
true  God  between  the  schoolmaster  and  the  rural  guard.  In 
exchange  for  a  pitiful  salary  of  nine  hundred  francs,  you  exact 
that  the  priest  slavishly  obeys  atheistical  laws,  and  prostrate 
hiraseff  belbre  the  lay  authorities.  If  he  proves  himself  to  have 
talent  and  zeal,  you  nominate  him  arch-priest  or  curate  of  a 
canton.  From  this  new  employment  he  is  not  removable,  and 
takes  from  the  budget  a  sum  of  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred  francs, 
according  to  the  number  of  the  papulation  ;  but  he  does  not  ex- 
ercise any  legal  authority  out  of  the  holy  temple  ;  he  must  sub- 
mit, like  the  first  comer,  to  tlie  jurisdiction  of  the  laical  tribu- 
nals ;  he  has  not  even  the  right  to  put  a  man  into  prison  !  If  he 
deserves  by  his  virtues  to  be  elevated  to  the  episcopacy,  he  can 
not  be  instituted  by  the  Holy  Father  until  he  has  been  nomi- 
nated by  the  laical  chief  of  your  government.  This  the  con- 
cordat signed  in  1801  by  Pope  Pius  VII.  and  th6  Consul  Na- 
poleon* Bonaparte  exacts.  I  am  enraged  when  I  think  1».iat 
Monseigneur  Sibour,  Archbishop  of  Paris,  who  died  a  martyr  at 
the  foot  of  the  holy  altar,  had  been  nominated  by  the  General 
Cavaignac  !  No  more  heart-rending  fact  can  be  brought  to  show 
how  with  you  the  spiritual  is  slave  to  the  temporal. 

"  Tilings  go  differently  under  the  care  of  the  Holy  Father. 


^.a^^r^ 


IGO 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


THE   GOVERNMENT. 


161 


An  irreproachable  logic  maintains,  in  the  temporal  domain,  order 
and  the  ecclesiastical  hierarchies.  The  Holy  Father  is  absolute 
master  of  the  property  and  persons  of  his  subjects,  because  all 
that  has  been  given  without  condition  to  the  supreme  head  of 
the  Church.  After  him,  the  principal  authority  and  the  liighest 
employment  belong  to  the  cardinals.  Nothing  more  just  and 
more  natural,  since  the  cardinals  are  the  principal  chiefs  of  the 
Church,  and  any  one  of  them,  the  Holy  Spirit  aiding,  may  some 
day  become  Pope.  After  the  cardinals,  princes  of  the  Stiite  as 
of  the  Church,  are  placed  the  high  and  respectable  nobility  of 
the  prelates,  who  are  all  in  the  way  to  become  cardinals.  The  rest 
follow  in  the  same  order,  and  the  thirty-eight  thousand  three 
hundred  and  twenty  pereons  who  compose  the  secular  and  regu- 
lar clergy  exert  in  the  State  an  influence  proportionate  to  the 
rank  wliich  they  occupy  in  the  Church.  The  last  of  these  thirty- 
eight  thousand  three  hundred  and  twenty  persons  is  immediately 
superior  to  the  lirst  of  the  laity.  This  hierarchy  is  as  constant 
in  the  eyes  of  the  government  as  in  the  eyes  of  God  himself. 

"  In  1797,  before  the  spoliations  of  which  we  were  the  vic- 
tims, the  Roman  clergy,  regular  as  well  as  secular,  possessed  two 
hundred  and  fourteen  millions  of  francs  in  funds.  To-day  its 
territorial  fortune  is  entered  on  the  registry  at  five  hundred  and 
thirty-five  millions.  You  see  that  it  has  repaired  its  losses.  The 
Koman  cardinals  touch  but  twenty  thousand  francs  per  annum 
from  the  cash  box  of  the  Pope,  but  we  should  add  to  this  modest 
sum  the  revenue  of  some  bishopric,  of  some  benefice  or  high  em- 
ployment selected  among  tht-  tnost  lucrative.  This  combination 
allows  them  to  appear  poor  and  to  be  rich.  When  the  pageants 
of  the  Court  of  Rome  are  attacked  before  you,  you  can  always 
say,  with  M.  de  Rayneral,  that  the  cardinals  receive  but  four 
thousand  crowns  per  year.  But  you  have  sufficient  good  sense 
to  comprehend  that  their  stable  alone  often  eats  up  more  than 
four  thousand  crowns. 

"  The  sacred  college  of  cardinals,  the  number  of  which  varies 
from  sixty  to  seventy,  is  recruited  from  the  prelacy.  In  France 
you  designate  under  the  name  of  prelates  only  the  bishops  and 
archbishops,  but  it  is  uiilerent  with  us.  The  prelacy,  is  an  in- 
stitution entirely  Roman,  and  which  has  no  analogy  in  other 
States  of  Europe.  It  is  a  sort  of  spiritual  and  temporal  aristoc- 
racy recruited  by  the  Holy  Father,  who  has  signed  the  letters  of 


nobiUty.  It  is  a  school  where  by  degrees  one  is  raised  to  the 
dignity  of  a  cardinal ;  it  is  a  political  career  where  some  enter 
for  ambition,  reserving  to  themselves  the  right  to  quit  through 
discouragement.  The  younger  sons  of  good  houses,  on  leaving 
college,  may  obtain  and  even  buy  certain  domestic  or  judiciary 
posts  which  open  the  prelacy  to  them.  At  this  moment  they  are 
like  bachelors  in  France,  who  may  aspire  to  every  thing.  They 
wear  violet  stockings;  and  thus  shod  they  advance  in  the  road  of 
honors.  The  administration,  diplomacy,  the  high  courts  of  jus- 
tice are  the  domains ;  or,  if  you  like  it  better,  the  race-course  of 
the  prelates.  The  most  skillful  and  tlie  best  thinkers  rise  before 
the  others,  but  rank  Ls  necessary,  protection,  conduct,  and  espe- 
cially fine  bearing.  When  a  prelate  comes  to  be  nominated 
auditor  de  rote,  or  clerk  of  the  chamber,  or  secretary  of  the  great 
congregation,  he  may  hope,  without  too  great  presumption,  that 
he  will  die  in  the  purple.  He  who  attains  to  one  of  the  four 
great  employments  of  the  prelature  is  certain  of  his  affair. 
These  employment?,  which  are  named  cardinalesques,  are  those  of 
governor  of  Rome^  treasurer-general,  auditor  of  the  chamber, 
and  major  domo  of  the  pope.  New  titularies  enjoy  in  anticipa- 
tion some  of  the  prerogatives  reserved  to  the  holy  college.  They 
paint  their  carriages  red,  and  they  attach  red  silk  top-knots  to 
the  heads  of  their  horses. 

"  It  is  never  too  late  to  enter  into  the  prelacy,  and  one  is 
always  free  to  go  out  of  it  Suppose  that  a  man  of  good  intel- 
ligence, like  you,  wakes  up  with  the  call  or  the  ambition  to  enter 
the  sacred  college.  The  Holy  Father  may  even  name  you  prelate 
to-day,  and  you  will  wear  violet  stockings.  You  will  belong 
ipso  facto  to  the  aristocracy  of  the  Roman  Church,  to  the  etat 
major  of  the  papacy,  and  that  without  contracting  any  religious 
obligation.  You  will  pass  to  the  cardinalship,  and  you  will  take 
tlie  red  stockings,  tlie  day  that  the  Holy  Father  shall  think  pro- 
per ;  in  twenty-four  years  or  in  twenty-four  hours.  It  is  requi- 
site that,  at  the  last  moment,  you  be  ordained  deacon,  for  one 
never  becomes  a  cardinal  witliout  this  formality.  If  the  hat 
makes  you  wait  toodong;  if  your  patience  is  cxliausted,  if  you 
find  on  the  road  an  opportunity  for  an  advantageous  marriage, 
notliing  prevents  you  from  quitting  tlie  prelacy.  You  put  on 
Avhite  stockings,  and  all  is  said.  The  Count  Spada,  who  was 
prelate  and  minister  of  war,  went  out  of  the  prelacy  to  marry. 


■■**■'%::'  w 


&h-L£iK^  lii.. 


162 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


THE   GOVEENMENT. 


163 


He  is  nothing,  and  will  be  nothing  in  the  State,  since  he  baf 
taken  off  his  violet  stockings ;  but  no  restraint  was  ex  erted  to 

retain  him. 

"  The  Holy  Father,  the  cardinals,  and  prelates  govern  Avith  a 
paternal  gentleness  the  nation  which  belongs  to  them.  They 
have  a  particular  regard  for  the  princes  and  nobles,  not  only 
because  the  Roman  nobility  is  especially  of  pontifical  origin,  but 
also  because  the  distinction  of  classes  is  the  foundation  of  the 
pohcy  of  the  States.  They  reserve  for  a  Roman  prince  the  hon- 
orable charge  of  senator  or  mayor  of  Rome.  Another  great  lord, 
by  especial  privilege,  directs,  without  putting  on  violet  stockings, 
the  administration  of  the  post-oCBce.  Four  Roman  nobles, 
princes,  dukes,  or  marquises,  accompany  his  Holiness  in  the 
religious  ceremonies,  under  the  title  of  chamberlain  of  the  capo 
and  sword.  The  younger  sons  of  some  good  houses  compose  the 
noble  guard,  in  dress  of  sky  blue,  and,  in  general,  it  may  be  said 
that  the  sons  of  family  make  their  way  more  rapidly  than  th« 
plebeians,  in  the  ecclesiastic  career. 

The  people  of  the  lower  class  are  gently  treated.  They  are 
sympathized  with,  assisted,  amused  ;  nothing  is  asked  of  them  but 
to  hve  like  Christians  and  avoid  scandal.  One  might  wish  them 
more  perfect  and  especially  less  violent ;  but  as  they  submit  to 
their  dogmas  and  their  masters,  the  authorities  cast  an  indulgent 
vail  over  their  sins,  and  avoid,  as  much  as  possible,  shedding  their 
blood. 

The  intermediate  class,  if  they  dared  to  complain,  would  also 
have  little  favor.  They  are  allowed  to  cultivate  the  land  and  to 
devote  themselves  to  commerce  and  manufactures.  No  one 
bothers  them  about  their  religious  and  political  opinions,  provided 
they  carefully  keep  them  to  themselves.  Nothing  is  demanded 
of  them  but  obedience  to  the  laws  and  seventy  millions,  taxes ; 
for  which  they  get  something,  for  the  prelates  generously  give 
up  an  incredible  multitude  of  small  employments  in  which  a  man, 
content  with  httle,  easily  gains  the  wherewithal  to  live.  All  the 
well-thinking  and  well-recommended  bourgeois  find  places  in 
some  office — a  tribunal,  a  depot  of  tobacco,  or  the  bureau  of  a 
lottery.  The  thing  is  to  choose  a  protector,  to  obey  him  in 
every  thing,  to  bear  oneself  with  the  humiUty  of  an  unassuming 
condition,  and  ostensibly  to  practice  the  Christian  virtues. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  Pontifical  States  have  always  been 


%: 


amiably  governed  by  men  gentle  and  polished,  whose  education, 
habits,  and  faith  predispose  to  indulgence.  The  prmces  of  tlie 
Church,  humbly  submissive  to  the  venerable  scepter  of  the  Holy 
Father,' share  without  strife  or  jar  a  secondary  authority.  They 
make  a  large  part  of  the  Roman  princes,  their  allies ;  and  the 
prelates,  their  future  colleagues.  An  exchange  of  good  offices, 
recommendations,  and  reciprocal  concessions,  closely  unite  all 
men  who  are  something  in  the  St^te  ;  a  tradition  of  patronage 
and  of  clientage  as  ancient  as  Rome  itself  (for  it  dates  from 
Romulus),  keeps  in  submission  to  them  the  simple  people  and  the 

intermediate  class.  . 

*'  All  would  then  be  for  the  best,  if    the  revolutionary  spirit, 
escaped  from  Uie  depths  of  the  abyss,  was  not  like  a  scourge 
spread  over  Europe  and  Italy  herself     For  more  tJian  two  hun- 
dred years  some  innovators— enemies  of  the  rehgious  faith  and 
monarchical  tradition— have  endeavored  to  wake  up  m  the  mind 
the  soi  disard  principles  of  human  infallibility.     Aft^r  havmg  sap- 
ped the  foundations  of  clerical  authority  by  claiming  for  the  indi- 
vidual the  discernment  of  true  and  false,  of  good  and  evil,  which 
belongs  only  to  the  Church,  they  are  come,  by  the  logical  con- 
sequence of  their  system,  to  deny  the  legitimacy  of  aU  temporal 
power,  and  to  put  subjects  above  kings.     We  have  seen  millions 
of  men,  drawn  into  the  torrent  of  a  common  error,  affirm  tliat 
a  kin-dom  belonged  to  them,  from  the  simple  fact  that  they  were 
born  hi  it,  and  abolish  or  limit  the  power  of  their  prmces. 

*'  This  contagion  has  not  been  arrested  at  the  fronUers  of  our 
St^te,  and  for  many  vears  the  Sovereign  Pontiff  and  the  sacred 
colle-e  have  been  obliged  to  contend  with  the  most  intolerable 
exi-encies  of  human  pride.     Without  the  presence  of  the  French 
anny  wliich  defends  us,  the  people  of  this  country  would  pro- 
claim a  republic,  or  throw  itself  into  the  arms  of  a  foreign  prince. 
Constrained  to  rocognize  the  authority  of  its  legitimate  masters, 
it  insolentlv  claims  to  share  it  with  us.     There  is  neither  a  city 
nor  a  villa^^e  wliich  does  not  demand  the  right  to  administer  by 
iLseh^  and  'to  elect  a  municipal  body.     The  laity  pretend  to  usurp 
the  hiMi  offices  reserved  for  the  prelacy,  and  to  serve  the  pope 
in  «pite  of  himself.     The  advocates  wish  to  unite  in  assembly  and 
make  laws,  as  if  law,  in  the  States  of  the  pope,  could  be  any 
thing  eke  but  the  will  of  the  pope!     Finally  the  contnbutors, 


104 


EOME   OF  TO-DAY. 


who  ought  to  pay  to  Caesar  that  which  is  Cesar's,  and  to  Gk>d 
that  which  is  God's,  do  not  fear  to  call  us  to  account. 

"  We  would  disdain  to  answer  pretensions  so  new  and  mon- 
strous, if  tliey  were  not  in  some  sort  supported  by  our  protectors 
themselves.  Who  would  believe  it  ?  The  ambassador  of  a 
Catholic  prince  quahfies  with  tlie  name  of  abuse  the  fundamental 
institutions  of  our  monarchy.  Your  emperor  himself,  in  a  letter 
which  no  one  could  take  seriously,  counsels  the  secularization  of 
the  administration  and  the  adoption  of  the  Code  Napoleon  I 

"  Prudence  commands  us  to  obey,  at  least  in  form,  counsels 
coming  from  so  liigh  a  power.  We  have  promised  what  has 
been  demanded  of  us,  and  traced  upon  paper  the  plan  of  our 
ruin.  But  the  invasion  of  the-  laity  into  the  employ  of  govern- 
ment, the  adoption  of  a  revolutionary  code,  the  emancipation  of 
our  communes,  the  public  discussion  of  our  budgets,  would  make 
of  the  Holy  Father  a  constitutional  king.  His  religious  authority 
would  not  long  survive  in  the  minds  of  men,  his  political  infal- 
Hbihty— the  pope  would  no  longer  be  pope  1  But  we  profess  a 
religion  which  interdicts  suicide." 

To  this  picture,  flattering  yet  sufficiently  exact— to  the  reason- 
ing, indisputable  in  its  deductions,  but  founded  upon  doubtful 
axioms — I  will  add  but  a  few  words. 

The  government  of  the  Pope,  to  satisfy  the  desires  of  its  pro- 
tectors and  its  subjects,  has  instituted  a  kind  of  representative 
regime.  The  Holy  Father  appoints  communal  electors,  charged 
to  name  in  each  village  a  municipal  council.  But  to  spare  them 
the  embarrassment  of  a  choice,  he  takes  it  upon  himself  to  com- 
pose the  council. 

The  municipal  councils,  thus  formed,  present  to  the  Holy 
Father  a  list  from  which  he  himself  chooses  the  members  of  the 
provincial  council. 

The  provincial  councils,  in  their  turn,  present  to  the  sovereign 
a  list  from  which  his  Holiness  chooses  the  members  of  the  Com- 
mittee on  Finances.  The  pope  adds  to  tliis  council,  formed  by 
himself,  some  prelates  of  his  choice. 

The  Committee  on  Finances  is  intended  to  give  its  advice 
upon  all  questions  wliich  affect  the  treasury.  It  was  instituted 
in  September,  1841).  It  entered  into  function  in  December, 
1853.     It  gives  its  advice,  and  no  account  is  taken  of  it. 

The  mayor  bears  the  name  of  senator  of  Rome  and  Bologna. 


THE  GOVERXMENT. 


165 


of  gonfalonier  in  the  cities  of  less  importance,  and  of  prior  in  the 
)  villages.     But  senator,  gonfalonier,  or  prior,  is  only  a  passive  in- 

atnimont  in  tlie  hands  of  the  ecclesiastical  authority. 

The  Holy  Father  may  indefmitely  suspend,  by  his  chirografo 
sovrano,  the  execution  of  a  regular  judgment  even  in  a  civil 
matter.  I  do  not  think  that  any  other  sovereign  of  Europe  so 
overrules  the  law. 

It  may  be  said,  witliout  fear  of  contradiction,  that  the  pope 

reigns  and  governs. 

The  Secretary  of  State,  charged  to  defend  without,  and  to  ex- 
act witliin,  the  absolute  authority  of  the  Holy  Father,  lias  been 
for  tlie  last  twelve  years  the  Cardinal  Jacques  Antonelli. 


sasJ!r* 


■^!A':-t:Ai&l>'2 


XIII. 

ROMAN    CUSTOMS. 

TF  this  chapter  abounds  in  enormous  contradictions,  I  bcff  the 
-*    indulgent  reader  not  to  be  at  all  astonished.     All  is  contra- 
diction in  the  city  of  Rome :  a  people  weU-born  and  badly  brou-ht 
up;  a  government  full  of  grandeur  and  of  littleness;  laws  very 
mild  and  very  despotic;  taxes  very  moderate  and,  notwithstand- 
mg,  very  burdensome;   a  great  fund  of  natural  sinceiitv  with 
much  acquired  hypocrisy;  and  economical  life,  with  foofish  ex- 
travagance;  a  wary  prudence  and  blind  passions;  the  habit  of 
retirement  and  an  eager  desire  to  be  known  in  the  world-   a 
great  admiration  for  social  equality,  and  profound  respect  for  Uio 
existing  inequality;  a  constitution  despotic  enough  to  concen- 
trate all  the  power  in  the  hands  of  one  man,  and  democratic 
enough  to  put  the  kingly  crown  upon  the  head  of  a  capuchin  friar. 
AU  the  statues  which  are  seen  in  Rome,  whether  in  the  public 
places,  or  even  in  private  galleries,  are  complet^'ly  mumed  up 
with  vine  leaves.     Some  of  the  allegorical  figures  which  decorate 
the  tombs  of  the  old  popes  have  been  clothed  with  a  drapery  of 
tin.     The  artist  made  them  nude,  considering  that  we  owe  only 
truth  to  the  dead.    Modern  hypocrisy  has  clothed,  draped,  stuffed, 
and  smothered  them,  as  if  a  beautiful  statue  could  be  an  object 
of  scandal      To  make  amends,  men  are  allowed  to  bathe  literally 
naked  in  the  Tiber,  or  even  in  the  basin  of  the  fountain  Paolina. 
Nobody  IS  shocked  by  this  license,  neither  the  police,  nor  the 
pubbc,  nor  the  Roman  women,  who  go  and  come  and  wash  their 
imen  around  these  hving  statues,  without  thiukin-  of  evil 

Jjy'l  ^"^  !^"  ,^''P''"^  ^^  ^"  ""^y  ^J^^"^-     ^'''^  ^^  i^^menso 
establishment,  richer  and  better  endowed  than  any  of  the  otlicrs. 

A  young  man,  a  resident  of  the  house,  received  mo  at  tho  door 


ROMAN   CUSTOMS. 


167 


9m» 


and  conducted  me  very  politely,  without  knowing  who  1  was. 
He  is  a  physician ;  at  least,  he  has  passed  the  examinations  of  the 
theoretical  doctorate.  In  two  years  ho  will  pass  the  practical 
doctorate,  and  will  go  to  some  village  to  practice  his  profession. 
In  the  meantime  he  studies,  but  not  all  that  he  wishes  to.  He 
confessed  to  me,  in  confidence,  that  he  had  never  seen  the  body 
of  a  living  "svoman. 

"  And  the  accouchemcnts  ?" 

"  We  deliver  puppets  enclosed  in  a  small  mannikin.  But  when 
I  have  passed  my  last  examination,  I  shall  have  the  right  to 
attend  women." 

"  I  pity  the  first  one  who  shall  come  under  your  care." 
"  And  I,  also." 

The  halls  of  the  hospital  arc  enormous,  both  in  length  and 
breadth.  Four  rows  of  beds,  end  to  end,  without  curtains !  The 
feet  of  one  patient  touch  the  head  of  another.  The  interests  of 
these  poor  unfortunates  have  been  sacrificed  to  the  grandeur  of 
the  building. 

A  placard  hung  near  each  bed  indicates  the  regime  proscribed 
for  each  patient.  "  Whole  portion,  half  portion,  porridge  and 
pg:^,  viaticum^  This  last  w^ord  made  my  hair  stand  on  end. 
Poor  things,  to  be  told  eighty  hours  beforehand  that  they  are 
doomed  to  death  I 

Some  one  calls  away  my  guide  to  point  out  to  him  number 
two  hundred  and  so  many,  who  is  just  passing  away.  I  follow 
him,  and  see  a  man  writhing  in  the  agony  of  the  last  convulsions. 
He  is  a  peasant,  who  was  attacked  by  a  gastric  fever  for  want 
of  proper  food.  A  hospital  nurse  straightens  his  limbs,  removes 
his  shirt,  spreads  a  sheet  over  him,  and  lights  a  lamp.  I  observe 
then  that  five  or  six  similar  lamps  are  lighted  in  the  room :  so 
many  corpses.  !My  cicerone  points  out  to  mo  that  the  happy 
idea  has  been  adopted  of  afilxing  to  each  bed  a  kind  of  ring  to 
support  the  funeral  lamp. 

A  friar,  large  and  fat,  circulates  in  the  ward,  distributing  abso- 
lution to  those  who  require  it  For  the  otliers,  there  are  two 
grand  confoFsionals  near  the  entrance  door. 

I  am  shown  a  peasant,  red  as  a  tomato,  and  sweating  great 
drops  in  his  bed.  He  has  been  bitten  by  a  tarentula ;  notwith- 
standing, there  is  nothing  in  his  appearance  which  indicates  a 
passion  for  the  dance.     My  young  doctor  affirms,  that  the  bite 


w  ^aHifit^t'-Asn»ff  --B*^-^V 


168 


EOME  OP  TODAY. 


cf  the  tarentula  induces  a  violent  attack  of  fever.  Nevertheless, 
he  inclines  to  think  that  fear  has  much  effect  in  this  malady. 
Sometimes  a  complete  cure  is  effected  by  a  glass  of  water,  or  by 
a  pill  made  of  a  crumb  of  bread. 

One  hall  is  specially  devoted  to  the  sick  soldiers.  They  are 
paternally  cared  for,  even  their  irrdigicms  maladies.  But  in  this 
particular  case,  the  price  of  their  medicine  is  deducted  from  their 
pay.  In  consequence  of  this,  a  soldier  who  is  sick  from  hia  own 
fault  avoids  the  hospital,  and  remains  sick  as  long  as  God  pleases. 

I  visited  the  amphitheater,  the  anatomical  cabinet,  and  all  the 
scientific  collections  which  belong  to  the  hospital.  The  most 
remarkable  specimen  is  a  sore  clothed  with  a  vine-branch,  for  the 
eihfication  of  the  young  physicians.     Et  nunc  erudimini  I 

The  Hospital  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  hke  all  ecclesiastical  pro- 
perty, is  a  place  of  asylum.  A  robber,  an  assassin,  a  parricide 
can  here  find  refuge,  to  recover,  or  to  die,  under  the  shelter  of 
the  laws.  Some  invalids,  profiting  by  such  gracious  impunity, 
have  thought  that  it  was  allowable  for  them  to  rob  and  to  kill 
in  this  inviolable  retreat.  But  the  pontifical  authority,  consider- 
ing that  it  is  not  right  to  abuse  such  clemency,  has  i.  i  that 
the  crimes  and  offenses  committed  in  the  hospital  can  have  no 
right  to  impunity.  This  law,  engravei  upon  a  slab  of  marble,  is 
placed  in  view  of  the  sick,  who,  however,  do  not  know  how  to 
read. 

The  Foundhng  Hospital  connected  with  the  Holy  Spirit,  has 
seen  the  prologue  of  a  httle  drama  which  would  seem  hardly 
credible,  if  the  tribunals  had  not  taken  pains  to  verify  it. 

In  1807,  the  Duchess  X.,  who  had  already  a  son  and  a  daugh- 
ter, was  clandestinely  dohvered  of  a  third  child,  in  the  palace  of 
her  husband.  Why  did  she  have  the  new-comer  conveyed  to  the 
Hospital  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  instead  of  presenting  it  to  the  Duke 
X?  Perhaps  l>ecause  tlie  Duke  had  occupied  separate  apart- 
ment.^ for  many  years.  The  httle  Lorenzo  X.  entered  tlio  world 
by  the  door  of  the  foundling  children,  without  other  capital  than 
a  five  franc  piece,  su=       '  J  at  the  end  of  a  ribbon. 

Some  time  af\er,  the  L»jchcss,  who  had  some  maternal  affec- 
tion, proved  tliat  the  five  tranc  piece  '  to  her.  She 
reclaimeii  Lorenzo,  put  him  out  to  nurse,  and  allowed  Lim  a 
yearly  allowance  of  twenty  francs  a  i  n  was  scrupu- 
lously paid  to  the  time  of  his  majonty.          inks  to  the  LUraliiy 


EOMAN   CUSTOMS. 


169 


of  his  mother,  he  did  not  die  of  hunger,  and  learned  to  pjunt 

miniatures. 

The  deatli  of  \i\^  father,  and  of  bis  elder  brotlier,  changed  his 

occupation. 

He  saw  a  pretty  fortune,  about  seventy-five  thousand  fi*ancs 
income,  passing  into  the  hands  of  his  sister,  the  Princess  T.,  who 
was  not  exactly  in  want  of  it  The  Princess  T.  is  forty  or  fifty 
times  a  millionaire!  Hunger,  opportunity,  public  favor,  and 
certain  enemies  of  tlie  family  of  T.,  urged  Lorenzo  to  reclaim  the 
name  and  property  of  the  X.  family. 

If  I  could  transcribe  here  the  different  parts  of  the  lawsuit, 
which  have  been  collected  in  one  volume,  you  would  see  some 
curious  facts.  The  advocate  for  the  claimant  charged  the  Duch- 
ess with  having  left  her  son  in  penury,  whilst  she  committed 
follies  for  a  druggist  of  Frascati.  The  Princess  T.  said,  by  the 
organ  for  her  defense,  "  This  young  man  is  the  son  of  my  mother ; 
so^be  it :  but  very  certainly  my  father  had  nothing  to  do  with 
him.  Mamma  had  an  infinite  variety  in  her  affections.  Lorenzo 
is  the  son  of  some  one.  probably  of  a  Russian  called  M." 

But  the  most  marvelous  of  all,  is  the  deposition  of  the  Ducheai. 
At  the  moment  of  appearing  before  God,  this  august  lady  did 
not  disdain  to  declare,  for  the  interest  of  her  daughter,  that  her 
son  was  a  bastard,  and  incapable  of  inheriting. 

Notwithstanding  such  respectable  testimony,  the  young  Lo- 
renzo gained  his  cause :  Is  pater  est  quern  jusicR  nupti<B  denum- 
gtrant.  Besides  the  advocates  proved  that  the  late  duke  had 
compromised  himself  with  all  the  women,  the  duchess  with  all 
the  men.  and  that,  consequently,  the  duke  and  duchess  must, 
once  in  a  while,  at  least,  have  come  together. 

Lorenzo,  educated  in  adversity,  is  one  of  the  most  energetic, 
most  intelligent,  and  liberal  of  the  Roman  aristocracy.  You  will 
find  him  at  the  head  of  all  the  enterprises  which  can  advance  the 
progress  of  Italy.  His  sons  are  brought  up  in  Piedmont ;  they 
are  not  allowed  to  come  to  Rome,  even  during  vacation,  as 
t  .  the  air  of  the  Holy  City  could  poison  their  minds. 

His  one  defect  is  a  deplorable  awk-wardness  in  the  use  of  fire- 

anns. 

Another  romance.  The  Duchess  A.  was  left  a  widow  in  ia50. 
Her  fortune,  like  her  palace,  was  still  quite  imposing,  although 
somewhat  dilapidated. 

8 


170 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


Fortune  so  arranged  it  that  a  regiment  of  French  dragoons 
was  stationed  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  palace  A.     Eacli  morn- 
ing the  duchess  had  only  to  place  herself  at  her  window  to  be 
able  to  witness  tlie  toilet  of  the  horses.     She  remarked  a  young 
quarter-master  who  had  quite  a  grand  air,  although  he  was  su- 
perintending a  prosaic  operation.     From  watching  him  she  fell 
in  love  with  him,  and  as  she  had  done  nothing  to  displease,  she 
pleased  him.      Coming  to  an  understanding,  she  learned  that 
M.  H.  belonged  to  a  very  honorable  family  of  Norman  hus- 
bandmen.    He,  personally,  was   esteemed  by  his  conuades  and 
superiors.     He  would  not  be  long  without  an  epaulette.     The 
duchess  waited  till  he  became  an  othcer,  pei-suaded,  not  with- 
out good  reason,  that  a  French   oflicer   was   the  equal   of  a 
born  gentleman.     M.  H.  has  quitted  the  service ;  he  cultivates 
the  lands  wliich  belong  to  his  wife,  and  builds  up  a  fortune  that 
Roman  carelessness  had  allowed  to  decay.     His  wife  is  no  longer 
a  duchess,  but  she  will  be  rich  and  she  is  happy.     The  difficulty 
will  be  to  the  lackeys  in  Rome,  who  will  be  forced  to  announce 
the  former  Duchess  A.  under  the  name  of  Mme.  H.     As  for  the 
peasants  on  her  estates,  they  said  to  me  very  naively : 

"  Our  new  master  is  called  the  Duke  A.  since  he  has  married 
the  Duchess." 

When  love  has  gamed  possession  of  a  Roman  heart,  it  reigns 
supreme ;  everything  yields  to  it,  interest,  duty,  and  even  preju- 
dice. Look  at  this  no  longer  young  man  who  is  hastening  to 
the  Piazza  d'Espagna.  It  is  the  Prince  C.  He  is  going  to  kiss 
the  hand  of  a  young  girl,  a  dealer  in  groceries,  by  whom  he  is  so 
much  infatuated  that  he  wishes  to  marry  her.  Such  folly  will 
astonish  no  one.  It  is  true  that  the  wife  holds  but  a  small  place 
in  the  family,  and  a  man  can  choose  where  he  will,  without  com- 
promising himself. 

It  is  not  that  the  Roman  wives  are  beings  of  no  consequence. 
There  are  some  very  spirituelle^  like  that  little  Princess  C.  de  S. 

The  Prince  C.  de  S.,  who  died  of  old  age  in  1849,  had  married 
in  1848  a  lady  very  much  younger  than  himself.  The  same  day 
that  the  old  dotard  was  placed  under  ground,  his  widow  declared 
that  she  was  enciente,  and  she  was  not  accused  of  falsehood. 
She  was  delivered  of  a  son  at  the  limit  of  legal  delay,  and  her 
presence  of  mind  made  his  fortune. 

"  This  child  was  born  watch  in  hand,"  say  the  jurists. 


ROMAN   CUSTOMS. 


Ill 


} 


: 


Education  is  in  vain.  \Vc  find,  even  among  the  nobility, 
Roman  women  who  are  very  proud  and  very  noble. 

That  poor  little  ToUa  or  Vittoria  Savorelli,  whose  history  I 
published  some  years  ago,  was  certainly  not  a  vulgar  soul. 

I  have  lately  met  her  seducer.  He  is  an  insignificant  fat  man. 
His  remorse,  if  he  ever  felt  any,  has  not  emaciated  him. 

^I.  Savorelli,  the  father,  is  absorbed  in  business.  He  manu- 
factures stfc-ariue  candles,  and  is  making  very  quietly  the  fortune 
of  his  family.  He  has  in  his  house  a  beautiful  bust  of  his  daugh- 
ter, sculptured  by  a  brother  of  Tolla. 

I  saw  recently  a  young  girl  of  very  good  family,  who  has  had 
the  courage  to  learn  the  profession  of  painting,  in  order  to  marry 
a  poor  young  man  whom  she  loved.  After  eighteen  months  of 
study  she  became  capable,  love  aiding  her,  of  painting  copies 
quite  as  presentable  as  most  that  are  sold  to  strangers ;  but  her 
lover  was  no  longer  true  to  her ;  he  courted  another.  This 
heroic  girl  did  not  die  like  Tolla.  She  is  enamoured  of  a  for- 
eigner, who  will  not  marry  her,  who  has  told  her  so,  but  whom 
she  loves  in  spite  of  common  sense.  She  has  refused  the  hand 
of  an  old  diplomatist,  who  is  immensely  rich,  to  remain  faitliful 
to  this  Frenchman,  who  is  not  even  her  lover. 

The  Prince  T.,  the  richest  man  in  Rome,  is  perhaps  also  the 
most  unhappy.  His  family  has  recently  lost  a  fine  duchy,  an 
important  inheritance,  and  an  enterprise  prodigiously  lucrative. 
His  wife  is  insane,  his  heirs  are  daughters,  his  brother  is  nobody, 
one  of  his  nephews  is  an  idiot,  and  the  other,  who  was  worthy 
to  live,  will  die.  Sic  trayisit  gloria  mundi.  All  the  city  sincerely 
pities  the  Prince  T.  He  sells  his  money  somewhat  dear,  but  he 
has  done  good  with  it,  encouraged  the  arts,  and  given  splendid 
fetes. 

His  two  nephews  have  married  daughters  of  great  families, 
very  beautiful  both  of  them.  The  wife  of  the  eldest  has  a  char- 
acter open,  loyal,  and  passionate.  She  resists  energetically  the 
encroachments  of  her  sister-in-law,  who  uses  more  than  the 
diplomacy  of  Richelieu  and  Mazarin  to  procure  the  right  of  primo- 
geniture for  her  husband. 

One  day  recently  the  Cardinal  Antonelli  invited  the  ladies  of 
the  Roman  nobility  to  a  torch-hght  promenade  in  the  vaults  of 
Saint  Peter's.     At  the  supper  which  followed,  his  eminence  ap- 


;•**? 


tarn    -hUiA    »■   ''*flJH1t " 


112 


BOMB   OF  TO-DAY. 


proached  the  young  Princess  T.,  wife  of  the  eldest,  and  excused 
himself  for  not  having  invited  her  sister-in-law. 

"  You  have  done  right !"  replied  the  proud  Roman  lady.  "  It 
is  very  necessary  to  maintain  a  proper  distance  between  the 
elder  and  the  younger  1" 

A  Roman  lady,  a  princess,  educated  in  a  convent,  commuted 
some  imprudence.  The  waiting-woman  knew  everything,  and 
gave  her  mistress  to  understand  tliat  she  could  tell  all.  On 'such 
an  occasion,  what  French  lady  would  not  have  arranged  matters 
with  her  ?  My  Roman  lady  slapped  the  impertinent°creature  in 
the  face,  threw  her  down,  stamped  on  her,  and  sent  her  off  im- 
mediately. Our  poor  Stendhal,  were  ho  living,  would  admire 
this  specimen  of  courage.  Observe,  if  you  please,  that  the  prin- 
cess is  no  virago,  but  a  dehcate  and  pretty  little  woman.  The 
servant  went  away,  and  has  never  spoken  of  the  affair.  The 
heroine  herself  related  it  to  her  friend. 

Of  aU  the  Roman  nobles,  the  Prince  de  S.,  descended  from 
Valerius  PubUcola,  most  nearly  resembles  the  French,  lie  was 
at  the  siege  of  Rome  with  our  officers,  and  is  worthy  to  havo 
the  ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  His  house  is  richly  furnished 
and,  what  is  more  rare,  in  good  taste.  His  conversation  is  varied 
and  amusing,  particularly  before  dinner.  He  is  what  is  called  in 
Paris,  un  hon  en/ant,  but  too  much  so  for  his  own  good.  Yester- 
day he  was  at  Reignano  for  tlie  solemn  investiture'' of  the  young 
duke.  The  municipaUty  had  prepared  fire-works.  What  did 
the  Prince  do  S.  do  but  light  the  fuse  with  his  ci;?ar  in  broad 
dayUght  ? 

I  have  sometimes  met  on  tho  Pincian  another  Prince  de  S.  as 
much  a  prince  as  his  cousin,  and  reduced  to  live  on  a  pension  of 
a  few  crowns  a  month.  The  latter  would  have  made  a  fine  sol- 
dier in  a  country  where  the  laity  has  influence.  Ho  consoles 
himself  for  liis  forced  inaction  with  hunting  roe-bucks  and  wild 
boars.  He  is  a  Nimrod,  resigned  to  his  fate.  He  philosophically 
walks  his  dogs  on  the  Pincian  at  the  hour  when  the  Duke  Grazi- 
oU  and  so  many  other  parvenu  bakers  pompously  drive  their 
horses. 

Horses,  carriages,  lackeys,  liveries,  and  armorial  bearings— the 
city  of  Rome  is  full  of  them.  The  meanest  little  cure  gives  him- 
self  the  luxury  of  a  coat-of-arms.  Nobody,  except  the  fiacre 
driver,  puta  a  single  horse  to  a  carriage.     The  carriages  are  large 


ROMAN  CUSTOMS. 


173 


and  showy ;  one  mounts  to  them  by  a  ladder,  as  into  paradise. 
I  am  always  asking  myself  why  the  cardinals  and  other  grand 
€eigneiu*s  carry  about  three  lackeys  standing  on  the  same  board 
behind  the  carriage.  One  is  sufficient,  I  comprehend  exactly 
why  the  Turks  put  two  sentinels  in  one  sentry-box ;  the  hours 
are  long,  the  time  hea\y ;  tlie  second  guard  may  j)erliaps  keep 
the  first  awake.  But  tlu-ee  Ibotmen  in  a  slow  trot  behind  one 
cardinal!  Is  there  some  charitable  intention  concealed?  Can 
the  second  and  third  be  put  there  to  keep  the  first  fi-om  falling? 
Then  have  only  one,  and  make  him  sit  down. 

In  Rome,  the  pettiest  citizen  makes  it  a  point  of  honor  to  carry 
nothing  himself.  The  little  boys  who  go  to  their  classes  "WTap 
up  their  books  in  a  silk  handkercliicf  and  swing  them  negligently. 
To  show  that  they  carry  tlieir  own  books  to  school,  would  be  to 
confess  that  they  have  no  servant. 

A  notary  of  Paris,  who  had  studied  this  government,  said,  on 
returning  home,  **  There  is  only  one  way  to  'resolve  the  Roman 
question.    Sen<l  off  all  the  laity  and  leave  only  the  priests." 

Ratlier  a  violent  measure  I  I  imagine  the  same  end  can  be 
reached  in  another  way.  Let  us  give  Italy  to  the  ItaUans,  and 
Rome  to  the  Pope.  The  "Eternal  City"  will  be  inhabited  by  a 
peacefid  community,  resigned  beforehand  to  a  mild  servitude ; 
cardinals,  prelates,  priests,  monks,  princes,  clients,  providers, 
lackeys ;  total,  fifty  or  sixty  thousand  individuals,  who  have  all 
exalted  obedience  to  tlie  height  of  principle.  Add  to  this  a  float- 
ing population  of  twenty  thousand  foreigners,  who  will  come  to 
see  the  ruins  shut  up  in  this  rum. 

The  Roman  cardinals  never,  by  any  means,  walk  out  in  the 
city ;  theu-  dignity  obliges  them  to  use  a  carriage.  Those  who 
feel  tlie  necessity  of  a  little  exercise,  go  to  the  Villa  Borghese, 
or  rather  to  a  deserted  garden  which  extends  back  of  the  Coli- 
Beum.  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  seen  one  walking  on 
the  Pincian ;  but  fine-looking  prelates  are  often  to  be  met  there, 
walking  erect,  their  hose  well  drawn  up,  and  followed  by  lackeys. 

I  am  assured  that  the  cardinals  can  not  enter  a  church  With- 
out a  certain  ceremonial  It  follows  from  this,  that  if  a  cardinal 
were  incUned  to  open  the  door  and  go  hke  an  humble  behever  to 
Bay  his  prayers,  etiquette  w^ould  bar  the  way. 

The  menials  of  Rome,  full  of  respect  for  the  cardinals,  are 
somewhat  insensible  to  the  episcopal  dignity :  it  is  because  there 


'•Cmu  (KkKiAiissr* 


174 


EOME  OF  TO-DAY. 


ROMAN  CUSTOMS. 


175 


are  such  a  multitude  of  bishops  in  the  citj.  They  say  that,  in 
one  of  those  ceremonies  which  always  draw  a  crowd,  a  Swiss 
guard  drove  back  the  people  with  blows  of  his  halberd. 

''Take  care,"  cried  out  a  lackey,  "you  will  knock  down  his 
Eminence  I" 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  Swiss,  prostrating  himself  before  the 
cardinal ;  "  I  thought  it  was  a  bishop." 

When  a  cardinal,  in  his  carriage,  passes  a  military  stxmun,  the 
guard  comes  out  and  presents  arms.  The  cardinal  returns  the 
salute  without  touching  his  hat,  by  slightly  raising  his  carriage- 
glass.     The  inferior  dignitaries  salute  in  the  same  njanner. 

A  pensioner  of  the  Academy  of  Home,  whom  I  could  name, 
went  to  visit  the  manufactory  of  mosaics.  In  one  of  the  work- 
rooms of  the  establishment,  he  saw  a  prelate  walking  around 
with  his  hat  on  his  head.  Concluding  that  it  was  proper  to 
remain  covered,  he  put  on  his  own  liat.  The  prelate  came  up, 
and  with  one  stroke  of  his  hand  knocked  it  from  his  head.  This 
ia  an  anecdote  of  1858. 

Miracles  are  no  longer  wrought  in  Rome,  nor  in  the  Papal  States. 
Some  zealous  persons  try  it  from  time  to  time,  but  the  Holy  Office 
soon  puta  a  stop  to  it.  A  young  girl  who  died  at  the  hospital  of 
St.  John  retained  for  some  time  the  color  in  her  face.  Mgr.  Tizani 
reported  a  miracle.     The  Inquisition  commanded  silence. 

At  Sezza,  some  four  or  five  years  ago,  a  pious  young  girl  began 
to  prophesy,  under  the  direction  of  two  priests.  The  people 
laughed  at  her  prophecies.  The  government  imprisoned  the 
pythoness  and  her  two  directors. 

Three  years  ago,  a  young  female  medium  attracted  the  crowd 
about  a  mile  from  Rimini.  Two  ecclesiastics  said  m:u«s  in  her 
chamber ;  she  prophesied  fluently.  Three  Dominicans  hastened 
to  Rome.  The  miracle  wa^  stopped,  the  affair  investigated,  and 
at  the  end  of  a  suit  which  lasted  three  years,  the  young  girl  and 
her  magnetizers  were  on  their  way  to  the  galleys. 

Perhaps  we  may  congratulate  ourselves  that  the  very  lucrative 
miracle  of  La  Salette  is  produced  in  France.  The  Holy  Office  of 
Rome  is  more  severe  than  the  clergy  of  Grenoble,  or  more  pru- 
dent.    It  is  afraid  of  scandal,  and  holds  fast  to  the  old  niiraeles. 

The  law,  or  at  least  the  usage  of  Rome,  permits  a  poor  man, 
if  hungry,  to  steal  a  loaf  of  bread  from  the  baker's  basket. 

I  have  seen  famishing  men  who  did  not  avail  themselves  of 


this  privilege.  A  peasant,  who  had  numbered  fifty  years,  was 
walking  along  the  Corso,  looking  from  right  to  left  with  an  indif- 
ferent air.  At  the  corner  of  an  adjacent  street  he  spied  out  an 
enormous  cabbage-stump,  in  a  heap  of  fiith ;  he  ran  to  it,  seized 
and  ate  it  with  an  avidity  terrible  to  see.  Wait.  When  he  was 
satisfied,  or  disgusted,  he  threw  away  the  remainder.  A  young 
fellow  of  twenty  years,  who  had  followed  him  for  some  minutes, 
picked  it  up  and  devoured  it. 

These  are  observations  which  the  mere  tourist  can  not  make. 
Time  ia  wanting,  opportunity,  and  a  certain  kind  of  curiosity. 

The  Turkish  women  sleep  with  their  heads  dressed,  and  the 
Greeks  with  their  entire  costume.  The  Roman  women,  their 
husbands,  and  their  children  sleep  entirely  naked.  In  Paris  it  is 
untidy  to  sleep  in  stockings ;  in  Rome  it  is  improper  to  retain  the 

shirt 

A  French  lady  had  entrusted  me  with  a  small  present  for  her 
foster  sister,  married  to  a  lockmaker  of  Borgho.  I  went  to  his 
house  on  Sunday  morning,  at  about  seven  o'clock.     I  knocked. 

"  Chie  (who  is  it)  ?"  rephed  a  man's  voice.     I  made  known  my 

errand. 

*'  Excuse  me,"  replied  he,  "  I  am  not  dressed." 

"  What  is  that  to  me?" 

"  Come  in,  then." 

I  entered.  There  he  was,  naked  as  a  worm,  but  making  the 
profoundest  bows.  He  conducted  me  thus  to  his  wife,  who  was 
in  bed,  attired  in  the  same  way.  I  handed  her  the  silver  watch 
which  I  had  brought.     She  screamed  with  delight. 

At  the  sound  four  foathcrless  birds  half  raised  themselves 
from  a  neighboring  bed.  They  were  the  children  of  the  house, 
two  boys  and  two  girls. 

Here  is  a  story  from  one  of  my  artist  friends,  a  fellow  to  be 
trusted,  and  incapable  of  falsehood  : 

-'  While  1  was  ranging  the  mountains,  for  the  study  of  costume, 

I  made  my  headquarters  in  the  village  of •     I  was  often 

guided  in  my  walks  by  a  kind  of  good  old  hermit,  who  asked 
alms  by  the  way— a  wordiy  man,  and  not  useless  in  his  genera- 
tion, for  he  was  skUlful  in  puffing  teeth.    One  evening  we  arrived 

together  at  the  hamlet  of .     No  inn ;  we  presented  ourselves 

at  the  cotUge  of  one  of  the  country  people.  Brilliant  hospitaUty  I 
I  heard  two  cries :  me  and  couic  !    Me,  that  is  from  a  kid  which 


ire 


ROME  OP  TO-DAY. 


EOMAN  CUSTOMS. 


177 


they  are  killing ;  coniCj  that  is  from  a  hen  whose  neck  is  getting 
squeezed  in  a  drawer.  After  supper  the  countryman  made  a  bed 
for  me  in  the  room. 

"  '  For  you,'  said  he  to  the  hermit,  '  you  can  very  well  sleep 
with  us.' 

"  He  was  married.  I  lay  down ;  he  did  the  same,  after  putting 
out  the  light,  the  wife  in  front,  the  husband  in  the  middle,  the 
hermit  behind;  all  three  in  the  national  costume.  In  the  morn- 
ing, before  daylight,  I  heard  a  little  noise ;  it  was  our  host,  who 
was  getting  up  to  go  to  his  work.  He  came  in  at  about  eight 
o'clock  for  breakfast. 

"We  are  about  to  leave ;  I  wish  to  pay ;  our  host  objects ;  I  in- 
sist;  he  is  in  despair.     At  length  he  says  to  the  hermit : 

"  Since  tliis  gentleman  will  not  permit  me  to  give  you  hospi- 
tality for  nothing,  take  your  tools  and  pull  out  a  tooth  for  me.  I 
have  one  here  which  is  going ;  it  does  not  ache  yet,  but  it  will 
have  to  come  out  some  day  or  other." 

The  people  in  town  and  country,  and,  indeed,  all  the  common 
people,  love  flowers.  There  are  very  lew  among  tlie  peasantry 
who  do  not  plant  a  hedge  of  roses  around  the  vineyard.  Every 
woman  twines  flowers  in  her  hair ;  the  plowman  comes  back 
from  the  fields  with  a  nosegay  fastened  in  his  hat ;  persecuted 
lovers  carry  on  their  correspondence  by  the  help  of  flowers 
dropped  along  the  path ;  it  is  a  handwriting  with  rules  of  its 
own,  where  every  twig  has  a  meaning.  In  a  village  near  Romti 
the  processions  are  trained  to  design,  as  they  walk,  a  richly  pat- 
terned carpet  of  flowers. 

It  is  not  more  than  twenty  years  since  the  Roman  nobility 
distinguis:hed  itself  from  the  common  people  by  an  aristocratic 
contempt,  for  the  stench  of  flowers,  h  puzza  de'  fiori.  What  sur- 
prises me  Is,  that  in  a  country  wher^  all  the  natural  odors,  even  the 
most  disagreeable,  are  patiently  endured,  that  an  exception  should 
have  been  made  with  roses,  violets,  and  heliotropes. 

For  a  few  years  back  the  beau  monde  has  been  adopting  more 
natural  tastes.  I  saw  at  the  villa  Borghese  an  exhibition  of  hor- 
ticulture which  gives  evidence  of  progress.  But  if  you  will  walk 
through  the  gardens  of  the  last  century,  you  will  notice  that 
flowers  were  excluded  from  the  original  plan.  The  gardens 
were  intended  only  for  lawns,  shrubs,  laurels,  evergreens,  cypress- 
es, parasol  pines,  and  a  great  deal  of  cut  stone. 


%m^ 


There  is  not,  in  all  Rome,  a  tolerably  comfortable  bathing  es- 
tabUshraent.  Strangers  bathe  at  their  hotels,  and  the  nobility  in 
their  palaces.  A  large  part  of  tlie  population  deprives  itself  of 
this  little  luxury,  which,  however,  is  a  costly  affair. 

The  dead  are  washed  in  warm  water;  how  many  Romans 
have  had  only  that  bath? 

"For  whom  do  you  take  me?"  was  the  answer  of  a  young 
Roman  girl.     "  I  am  an  honest  girl ;  I  do  not  soak  myself  in 

A  pubhc  bath,  neatly  kept,  open  to  every  one,  would  excite 
the  same  astonishment  as  the  lighting  by  gas,  the  laying  of  the 
electric  telegraph,  the  first  locomotive  at  Frascati,  or  the  first 
turning  figures,  which  drew  the  entire  city  before  Uie  windows 
of  a  hair-dresser  on  the  Corso. 

Every  one  knows  that  in  the  Pontifical  States  a  married  man 
can  never  succeed  in  anything.  There  is  no  career  except  for 
celibacy.  Nevertheless,  nature  is  so  powerful  that  Romans  of 
all  classes  marry  young. 

The  people  live  simply ;  tlicir  masters  allow  them  httle  ambi- 
tion, few  pleasures,  few  ideas ;  they  devote  themselves  to  repro- 
duction. God  smiles  upon  their  efforts— hence  the  swarm  of 
children  which  covers  the  pavement  in  Rome. 

The  sovereign,  that  is  to  say,  tlie  clergy,  does  not  tolerate  tJio 
free  unions  which  unhappily  abound  among  us.  When  a  young 
man  and  a  girl  live  together,  the  police  watches  them,  surprises 
them,  brings  a  priest,  and  inflicts  the  nuptial  benediction. 

Such  surprises  appear  to  you  improbable ;  they  would  be  im- 
possible in  a  country  ruled  by  law ;  but  remember  that  in  Rome 
there  is  no  law.  J^Iarriage  there  is  not  an  act  but  a  sacrament. 
The  oi\il  registers  are  kept,  and  badly  enough,  by  the  cures.  In 
the  matter  of  birth,  marriage,  and  death,  the  certificate  of  the 
curd  is  the  onlv  paper  which  is  taken  in  evidence. 

If  the  clergy  may  marry  people  in  spite  of  themselves,  the  pair, 
matrimonially  inclined,  may,  by  another  species  of  abuse,  extort 
the  nuptial  benediction,  and  force  the  hand  of  the  priest.  Let 
two  young  people  resolve  to  unite  themselves  without  the 
consent  of°their  families ;  they  betake  Uiemselves  to  the  house 
of  the  priest,  and  surprise  him  as  he  jumps  out  of  bed.  One 
says,  in  a  clear  and  distinct  voice,  "  This  is  my  wife  l"  the  other, 
«  This  is  my  husband  I"  and  if  the  priest  has  heard  these  two 

8* 


M:i':iMi^^AMi^id 


178 


ROME  OP  TO-DAY. 


ROMAN  CUSTOMS. 


no 


phrases,  he  >s  obliged  to  bless  the  weddea  pair.  The  trick  is 
complete;  the  marriage  remains  as  iad.ssoluble  as  if  tl.e  mayo^ 
of  twenty  arrond.ssements  of  Paris  bad  passed  upon  itiTo 
authontjes  may  proceed  against  the  delinquents,  put  he  lad  under 
look  and  key  or  a  fortnight,  and  dmt  up  the  girl  in  a  conven 
tdcrno'S'-  "^^  ^^''r  "-^^  ^hall  have  thus  pa.d  their  debtt 
r!l  "'^'"=  """  ^'"'^''  ''^"•™'  ""^  consummation  of  the 


marriage 


A  good  sHup  e  cure-  in  a  parish  in  the  precincts  of  Rome  had 
^owed  hunseh  to  bo  caught  napping,  and  had  married  vo 
cluldren  m  sp.te  ol  hm>self.    His  bishop  suspected  him  of  allow- 

1,;^^. ,  "'""'  ^''""'  '"'  P'"-"''  '••''J  ••'  ^""il'-"-  Tap  for 

m  the  night  to  carry  the  sacrament  to  a  sick  person  in  exlnmi. 
He  dressed  hurriedly,  lighted  his  lantern,  and  hastened  ran 
.solated  house  where  the  lovers  were  waiting  for  him.  But  he 
was  soon  on  h,s  guard,  and  wlien  he  saw  with  what  sort  of  sick- 
ness he  had  to  do,  stopped  his  ears,  sun-  danced  whirled 
round  read.ed  the  door,  and  rushed  out  like  mad,  withouT t  ' 
mg  heard  the  two  sacrament.il  phrases. 

Tl,ere  is  now  in  Eome  a  young  country-girl  from  the  kin-^dom 
o    Naples,  whom  all  the  artists  know  under  the  nan,e  of  Stella 

« .tl>  he.  face  and  her  costume,  for  she  has  sat  for  .nore  than  one 
French  pamter.     Stella  is  very  pretty  and  very  prudent.     She 
crculates  unharmed  through  the  atehc,^  with  no  other  chaperon 
han  her  httle  sister  Gaetana.     These  two  children  (the  elder "s 
but  e,ghteen-the  younger  nine  or  ten)  earn  together  a  dozen 
J-anes  a  day  by  following  the  profession  of  n,o5el.     Theyp<^e 
fo     he  head  and  the  dress.     It  is  a  very  laborious  occupatln 
pa  Ucu  a,  ly  ,n  the  early  stages.    The  absolute  immobilitv  of  bodJ 
m  the  desired  attitude  becomes  oveq^owering  at  the  end  of  half 
an  Lour,  and  I  have  seen  inexperienced  models  fall  like  a  hfeless 
mass  at  the  end  of  the  sitting. 

StfUa,  as  I  have  said,  is  ir'reproachably  prudent.     This  youn-. 
g.rl,  who  can  not  read,  who  has  received  no  moral  education" 
who  spends  the  whole  day  among  young  men,  has  never  g  ven 
oc«ision  for  criticism.    She  follows  her  profession  conscientiously 
gathering  crown  after  crown,  until  tlie  day  when  she  will  be  rich 


•    I.   • 


enough  to  purchase  in  her  own  village  a  house  and  a  husband. 
The«e  southern  mountaineers  arc  the  Auvergnats  ot  Italy. 

Unfortunately,  Stella's  village  is  under  the  control  of  the  cure. 
The  c.ir,5  fancies  that  Stella  is  in  danger  at  Komo.     He  writes 
about  it  to  the  bishop  of  the  province,  who  writes  to  '!'«  P^^^'^  « 
charged  with  the  pontifical  police.   Consequence-orders  to  b  ella 
to  "ive  over  or  to  marry.     The  painters  complain  loudly,  and  set 
powerful  springs  in  motion.     A  n.ontU-s  respite  is  gained,    liut 
the  curi^,  the  bishop,  and  the  police  return  to  the  charge.     A 
husband  is  found  for  Stella.     He  is  a  booby  of  a  mountaineer, 
ugly,  stupid,  and  lazy.     He  now  crosses  his  legs  on  a  t.ylor  s 
board,  but  he  will  cross  his  arms  so  soon  as  he  shall  be  master  of 
a  woman  who  earns  money.     The  affair  rests  at  this  point.    The 
little  Gaetana  promises  to  kill  the  man. 

You  will  ask  me  why  these  respectable  edblesiastics  consider 
it  their  duty  to  make  a  poor  girl  who  harms  nobody  marry  ?  Is 
it  the  love  of  virtue?  No,  it  is  the  horror  of  scandal  \.rt.ue 
i,  not  more  common  in  Rome  than  in  the  other  capitals  of  i.u- 
rope,  but  scandal  is  more  carefully  hushed.  The  police  does  no 
allow  a  young  girl  to  have  a  lover-it  would  be  scandalous ;  but 
the  married  woman  may  trade  upon  her  charms-the  flag  covers 

tlie  merchandise.  .  .. ,  t 
And  the  husbands,  what  say  they  ?  Tliat  is  as  it  happens.  I 
ment  at  the  house  of  an  artist  friend  a  young  woman,  who  is  not 
there  for  her  portrait.  We  talk.  She  tells  me  that  she  is  mar- 
ried to  a  shocm.-iker  of  F street.  She  boasts  of  her  bus- 
band,  her  mother-in-law,  her  children. 

"  But,"  say  I,  "  what  would  your  husband  think  if  he  knew 

what  I  have  just  Icimed?"  .  , 

'•  He  I     He  would  think  it  no  harm  that  I  should  gam  a  little 

money  from  persons  of  quality  (persone  di  garbo).     Ah  I  it  i 

were  to  be  imprudent  with  one  of  our  own  clas.^  he  would  kill 

"^  Do  you  understand  ?    On  one  side  w.int,  on  the  other  vanity. 

Moral  sense  ?    Absent. 

Here  is  a  more  original  anecdote.    A  young  m.in  from  Lyons 
tlio  representative  of  a  commercial  house,  stops  m  ^^^^^ 
takes  lodging  in  the  ncighbori.ood  of  the  post-office     He  is  v^ 
ited  by  a  go-between.    These  gentlemen  swarm  in  the  city  and 
for  a  present  of  five  francs  they  will  kiss  your  hand.    My  Lyon- 


^^fi'k'^^SSiSjfe^i;  ■ 


180 


EOME  OP  TO-DAY. 


nese  aided  by  his  go-between,  takes  a  mistresa    She  was  mar- 
husband.     The  lyonnese  was  prudent  of  necessity.     He  never 

l>'s  whip,  but  mid-way  was  seized  witli  indisposition      A  rL 
ade  w  o  was  returning  to  Rome  had  changed  bor^es  wit  Z 

pected ,  and  his  first  movement  was  to  draw  a  knife     The  Lv 
ZZ  "^P''"'";'^'--o-d,  entreated,  set  forth  ht  qJaLL' 
Frenchman,  and  offered  »  indemnity  the  five  or  six  crowns  th^ 

were  cotTed  "n  '"  '°'^''"'^"'  '"^  ^^"^'"^  -^  '"~7 
were  accepted.     "Dress  yourself,"  said  the  man-  "but  if  Pv.r 

oTper;  J^y^zTsS;  u- "--  -  ^^^^ 

and  at  the  foot  of  the  i.  A  nlt^!  T' ''''"  ^°"  '°  ^^'"''=« 
stay;  wait  for  me.  I  £  VotiS^Tou  ''T^r^T''.  ""-^ 
into  his  pocket,  locked  up^hirtrand  S  nf  oif    "Z^ 

u  es  to  1  ve     W       °"°'^^,^  '""^"''"^'^'^  '^' ''«  ''"''  »«  *«"  min- 
utes to  Int.     Whenever  they  turned  into  a  badly-li-^htcd  street 
ho  said  to  himself :"  Now  for  iH"     W»  ™        '0  '„'itcu  street, 

Lome'wi:hL'r'"'''^°  ""  '^°"'""  '°  -™  -^  "-  -y 

The  Eomaa  answered,  with  sublime  sweetness  : 
happeiTo'iU" "'  "'"' "'"'  '  '■^^''^^^'  ">^'  --  -'dent  would 

Sre^Tr^;:cShn:^rstt;^.^Lt"i" "---  ^^- 

unconsciou^y  to  see  if  the  dooSloLd  """'  '"•"°°'" 


ROMAN   CUSTOMS. 


181 


I 


I  knew  a  French  officer,  a  handsome  fellow,  by  my  faith  1  who 
was  living  in  furnished  rooms  in  the  house  of  a  very  pretty  Ro- 
man woman.  Her  husband  was  a  cardinal's  servant,  and  earned 
fifty  francs  a  month  ;  the  woman  made  the  rest.  Singular  acci- 
dent !  the  creature  had  conceived  a  violent  passion  tbr  her  lover. 
She  sometimes  treated  him  to  scenes  of  jealousy,  and  the  am- 
val  of  the  husband  did  not  shut  her  mouth.  "  For  heaven's^ke, 
said  the  poor  man,  '^  let  mc  eat  my  supper  m  peace !  If  you 
can't  hve  without  quarreUng,  havn't  you  all  the  day  to  your- 

Selves  ? 

The  same  woman  had  a  son,  a  boy  of  some  ten  years.  She 
did  not  dream  of  concealing  herself  from  him.  On  the  contrary, 
tlie  child  kissed  her  hand  every  night,  and  she  gave  hmi  her 

blessing.  ,., , 

The  Roman  people  have  unheard  of  deUcacies,  and  mcrediblo 
brutahties  of  language.  They  will  not  say  a  hog,  but  a  hlack  anv 
mat  for  euphonism.  To  make  amends,  they  boldly  call  any  man 
a  hog  who  may  displease  them.  A  mason  on  cntermg  a  drmkmg 
shop  will  caU  the  wine-seUer  monsieur  le  patron  ;  his  wife,  mad- 
ame  T espouse;  liis  clerk,  monsieur  h premier,  monsieur  U  pnnci- 
paJ  But  if  you  vex  a  little  girl  four  years  old,  she  will  cover 
you  with  abuse  that  would  soil  the  mouth  of  a  horse-killer. 

I  was  riding  in  a  carriage  with  a  citizen  of  some  fifty  years, 
and  a  very  pretty  girl,  his  daughter.     At  the  first  stoppmg-place 
the  father  said  to  the  young  lady  : 
"  Would  you  like  to  get  out  ?" 

"  No,  papa." 

"  If  you  have  any  little  occasion  to  satisfy,  you  would  do  very 
wrong  to  incommode  yourself  These  gentlemen  wiU  tell  you 
so,  as°well  as  I ;  you  would  do  very  wrong."  _     ^^ 

"  Thank  you,  papa.     I  took  my  precautions  before  starting. 

Oh  nature  1     I  softened  the  words  in  the  translation. 

This  same  citizen,  in  ^^Titing  to  his  partner,  would  not  omit  to 
^>Tite  out  the  full  address  :  "  To  the  very  illustrious  and  most 
estcemt^d  Seigneur  Bartolo." 

M  de  U'vis  was  terribly  scandalized  when,  in  going  up  the 
staircase  of  the  Vatican,  he  met  a  servant  who  held  out  his 
tobacco-box  to  a  cardinal,  and  the  cardinal  helped  himself  to  a 
pinch.  These  famUiariiies  may  be  seen  every  day  m  a  city 
where  Uie  social  conditions  are  separated  by  vast  gulfs.     W  hiie 


182 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


Visiting  the  trenches  of  the  Via  Latina,  I  have  seen  the  Cardinal 
Barberini  surrounded  by  prelates,  priests,  and  servants  in  livery. 
Tlie  servants  joined  in  the  conversation.  One  lackey,  with  a 
fluent  totigue,  began  quite  a  dissertation,  and  a  circle  formed 
about  him.  The  cardinal,  who  is  quite  short,  circulated  on  the 
outside  of  the  group,  and  saw  only  Uie  backs  of  his  domestics. 

Monseigneur  Muti,  a  Roman  prelate,  is  descended  in  a  direct 
line  from  Mucins  Scajvola.     Some  one  asked  him, 

"  What  do  you  do  with  your  evenings— you  arc  never  to  be 
seen  anywhere?" 
"  I  stay  at  home." 
"  It  must  be  tiresome  ?" 

"  No,  we  play  some  little  game.     I  have  up  the  cook  and  get 
away  two  or  three  of  his  crown  pieces." 

This  anecdote  was  told  me  at  Frascati  by  the  ambassador  of  a 
great  power.  M.  de  Martino,  Minister  from  Naples  to  Rome, 
and  three  quarters  of  the  diplomatic  corps  heard  it  as  well  as  I. ' 
In  a  little  excursion  which  I  made  about  Rome  with  our  excel- 
lent M.  SchnetJ!:,  I  remarked  that  the  landlords  always  set  four 
covers  for  our  dinner.  We  were  but  two,  but  M.  Schnetz  had 
his  coachman  and  valet  de  chambre,  and  it  was  thought  a  matter 
of  course  to  scat  them  with  us. 


XIV. 


DEATH. 

THE  Romans  of  to-day,  like  those  of  old,  know  how  to  die. 
We  must  do  them  the  justice  to  acknmvledge  this.  They 
accept  with  philosophic  indifference  all  the  necessities  of  life, 
including  this  last  of  them  all.  Thoy  die  as  they  eat,  as  they 
drink,  as  they  sleep,  as  they  love— naturally,  simply,  familiarly. 

One  is  struck  with  admiration  on  reading  in  Tacitus  how  few- 
were  the  ceremonies  performed  by  the  great  citizens  of  the  em- 
pire in  the  presence  of  death.  The  resignation  of  the  ancients 
was  due  to  the  lo0cal  and  undoubted  hope  of  an  eternal  sleep ; 
perhaps  also  to  the  daily  spectacle  of  mortal  conflict  in  the  am- 
phitheater. The  resignation  of  later  times  is  due  to  the  hope  of 
a  life  of  happiness  in  a  future  world,  and  to  the  repeated  moni- 
tions of  a  religion  which  says  that  "  all  must  die." 

Every  sermon  that  I  have  heard  during  the  past  five  months 
has  contained  one  reference  at  least  to  the  nearness  of  death.  All 
the  churches  that  I  have  passed  have  been  placarded  with  those 
insi^-nia  of  mourning,  on  one  side  of  which  are  to  be  seen  the 
coat  of  arms  of  some  one  deceased  and  on  the  other  side  a  hide- 
ous skeleton  with  this  device,  "  Jlodie  mihi,  eras  /iti— To-day 
is  mine,  to-morrow  thine."     Thy  turn  will  come  ! 

*'  I  open  wide  the  gates  of  heaven  and  hell. 
Life  to  the  just  I  give,  to  sinners  death." 

At  Velletri,  before  the  workshop  of  a  farrier,  I  even  saw  the 
skeleton  of  a  horse  portrayed  upon  the  sign,  as  if  to  t^ach  the 
bmtes  that  they,  too,  have  to  die. 

Why  not  ?  the  brutes  themselves  have  a  religious  duty  to  per- 


4 


'j^^^M 


184 


EOME  OP  TO-DAY. 


form  in  this  sin-iilar  country.     They  go  every  year  on  St  An- 
thony's day  to  take  holy  water. 

But  I  must  return  to  tlie  human  animal.     The  morning  after 
All  Saints' day  various  incidents  from  Scripture  are  represented 
m  all  the  churches,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  death  of  Jacob  or 
the  burial  of  David.     The  bodies  have  been  usually  made  of  wax 
lor  a  few  years  past.     It  is  not,  however,  very  long  since  real 
corpses  were  employed,  which  were  obtained  for  the  purpose 
trom  the  hospitals;  and  the  nuns  used  to  send  to  every  palace 
bon-bons,  called  bones  of  the  dead,  the  marrow  of  which  was  re-' 
presented  by  sweetmeats.     Strange  expedient  to  nourish  in  the 
Koman  mind  the  thought  of  deatli  I 

Who  has  not  seen  in  the  square  of  the  palace  Barbcrini  the 
quarters  of  tlie  Capuchins,  in  which  everything  is  dead  even  to 
the  furniture  ?    Th^y  consist  of  eight  or  ten  rooms  on  the  ground 
floor.     One  day  I  found  the  windows  open  for  the  pumose  of 
airmg  the  tenement.     I  stopped  and  looked  inside.     The  furni- 
ture was  uniform,  as  were  also  the  dresses  of  tlie  occupant.    The 
wainscoting  was  one  continuous  net-work  of  bones.     In  the 
beds,  contrived  in  the  wall,  reposed  skeletons  of  friars  in  their 
gowns.     One  had  preserved  Uie  skin,  anoth*  the  beard     Fes- 
toons,  composed  of  vertebne,  set  off  the  bafeness  of  the  walls 
The  eccentiic  imagination  of  the  monks  had  run  riot  in  contriv^ 
mg  a  thousand  grim  devices.     Interlaced  ulmc,  bundles  of  radii 
baskets  of  shoulder-blades,  pelves,  suspended  in  form  of  lusters' 
with  sockets  made  of  skuU  caps.    Each  room  contained  fifteen 
of  these  monks,  lying  in  two  rows  in  good  order:  the  earth 
which  directly  covers  them  in  the  absence  of  coffins,  is  a  mira- 
culous  soil  brought  home,  they  say,  by  the  crusaders 

In  reality  it  is  a  sort  of  poussolane  mixed  with  arsenic,  which 
has  tlie  property  of  destroying  flesh  in  a  few  days.  From  Una 
poussolane  to  the  ancient  funeral  pile,  the  distance  is  not  great. 
I  he  French  barracks  are  in  some  convent,  where  our  soldiers 
quietly  smoke  their  pipes  iu  the  court  belbre  tliose  open  win- 
dows.  * 

The  church  of  Buona  Morte  also  has  its  vault  decorated  in  tlio 
funereal  style  of  the  Capuchin  convent.  Here  are  preserved  as 
neatly  as  possible,  the  bones  of  the  drowned,  the  suffocated,  and 
the  victims  of  otlier  accidents.  The  brotherhood  of  Buona  Morte 
go  in  quest  of  the  dead  bodies.   A  sacristan  of  some  skiU  dries  them 


DEATH. 


18^ 


and  arranges  them  as  ornaments.    I  conversed  some  time  with 

tliis  artist. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  am  never  so  happy  as  when  I  am  here  in 
the  midst  of  my  work.  It  is  not  for  the  sake  of  the  few  crowns 
I  earn  daily  by  showing  the  chapel  to  strangers.  No !  but  this 
monument  which  I  keep,  which  I  embelUsh,  -vhich  I  brighten  by 
my  labor,  is  become  tlie  pride  and  the  joy  of  my  life." 

He  showed  me  his  materials,  that  is  to  say  a  few  handfuls  of 
bones,  heaped  up  in  a  corner,  was  loud  in  liis  praises  of  pousso- 
lane, and  profuse  in  his  contempt  for  lime. 

"  Lime  burns  the  bones,"  said  he,  "  and  makes  them  crumble 
to  dust;  what  good  can  you  do  with  bones  aft^r  they  have  been 

in  lime  ?" 

It  is  trash.     Rubbeccia  I 

In  Rome  burials  are,  in  reality,  spectacles.     At  sunset,  tlie  hour 
for  promenade,  you  will  find  the  Corso  filled  with  an  army  of 
Capuchins.    Two  or  three  brotherhoods  pass  in  long  files  toward 
an  open  pa!:.oe.     Enter  boldly  with  the  crowd.     The  bier,  sur- 
rounded with  a  few  torches,  awaits  the  ])ody.    The  Swiss  sen- 
tinel squares  himself  at  the  door,  in  full  dress.     The  deceased  is 
brought  down,  placed  on  a  litter,  and  covered  with  cloth  of  gold 
or  silver.     Four  porters,  disguised  as  members  of  the  brother- 
hood, take  him  upon  their  shoulders,  and  all  is  ready.     The  pro- 
cession of  Capuchins  moves  first,  lighting  their  candles,  which 
illuminate  the  street.     The  associations  come  next.     Then  the 
priests,  and  afterward  the  body,  followed  by  two  chests  full  of 
tapers.     The  procession  is  closed  by  the  carriages  of  the  deceased, 
all  empty.     What  are  you  looking  for?     The  relatives  1    the' 
friends  I  they  are  not  there.     The  relatives  have  borne  the  ex- 
pense of  the  spectacle ;  Uie  friends  enjoy  it,  like  yourself.     There 
they  are  in  the  crowd,  smoking  tlieir  cigars,  and  watching  tlie 
slow  march  of  the  Capuchins. 

Beside  the  funeral  cortege  run  fifty  or  sixty  urcliins,  armed 
with  paper  trumpets.  They  pick  up  the  wax  which  faUs  from 
the  tapers,  and  do  not  scruple  to  break  off  sundry  fragments,  if 
they  spy  an  opportunity.  On  reaching  tlic  church  they  roU  the 
wax  into  pellets,  and  improve  their  skill  as  marksmen.  While 
•  they  are  quarreling,  and  puUing  each  otliers'  hair,  the  corpse  13 
laid  away  in  a  corner,  with  litUe  ceremony,  and  everybody  goes 
home. 


186 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


DEATH. 


187 


They  always  so  arrange  it  that  fine  funeral  processions  shall 
pass  along  the  Corso,  even  if  the  deceased  lived  at  the  other  end 
of  the  city.     What  a  rage  for  appearances ! 

If  any  family  has  the  misfortune  to  lose  a  handsome  daugh- 
ter, and  the  body  is  not  too  much  decomposed,  permission  is 
sought  to  inter  it  with  the  face  uncovered.  They  paint  the  inani- 
mate clay,  they  exhibit  it,  they  make  much  discourse  of  the  ex- 
cellent qualities  of  the  departed  and  of  their  own  for  twenty-four 
hours.     This  is  an  amazins:  success. 

The  nobles  wear  mourning;  a  mourning  of  ostentation,  which 
distinguishes  them  from  the  common  people.  The  middle  and 
lower  classes  make  no  chancre  in  their  dress.  A  citizen,  some 
time  ago,  having  put  on  black  clothes,  on  the  death  of  bis  moth- 
er, I  heard  a  bystander  remark  : 

"  Formerly,  mourning  was  only  for  princes,  but  now  the  vas- 
sals are  presuming  to  wear  it.     What  next?" 

The  word  vaSv^al  is  worthy  of  note. 

In  aristocratic  circles  the  younger  is  bound  to  wear  mourn- 
ing for  the  elder ;  the  latter  may,  if  he  please,  wear  it  for  tho 
former. 

Funeral  cards  are  i:  new  custom  which  will  with  difficulty 
be  established.  Why?  Because  the  deceased  is  forgotten 
the  day  after  the  funeral.  He  is  in  Paradise.  God  has  received 
his  souL  They  speak  of  him  no  more.  Visits  of  condolence  are 
in  bad  taste.  It  is  out  of  fashion  to  remind  people  of  the  loss 
they  have  sustained. 

A  Frenchman  had  danced  a  few  times  at  a  house  in  Rome. 
Having  heard  that  the  father  of  the  family  was  dead,  he  thought 
it  but  right  to  call  on  the  daughter.  He  was  entertained  with 
much  gay  small  talk  about  the  weather  and  so  forth.  At  length 
he  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  approach  the  topic  which  had 
brought  him  tliere. 

"  Miss,"  said  he,  "  I  sympatliize  deeply  with  the  sorrow  which 
has  overtaken  you.  You  well  know  liow  attached  I  was  to  the 
Count." 

**  Truly  I"  said  the  orphan,  with  a  gentle  sigh,  ''  he  was  very 
old." 

"  Yes,  Miss ;  but  how  wonderfully  he  had  preserved  the  exer- 
cise of  liis  faculties  1  ^yhat  vigor  of  mind !  What  a  complete 
character  I" 


I      » 


"  Yes  I  so  much  so  as  sometimes  to  render  our  Ufe  very  hard  to 

bear." 

"  Ah !  is  that  so  ?"  replied  the  Frenchman,  in  a  new  tone ;  "  I 
was  only  condoling  with  you  out  of  politeness,  and  talking  to 
please.  But  I  can  laugh  wnth  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 
I  don't  see  why  the  decease  of  your  father  should  give  nie  more 
trouble  than  it  does  you.     He  is  gone  !  good  day  to  him  I" 

The  deceased  of  quality  are  interred  in  the  churches,  a  usage 
very  projudical  to  the  public  health.  Voltaire  said  so  much  about 
the  matter  that  the  French  law  at  length  put  an  end  to  it.  The 
Roman  law  literally  no  longer  permits  a  source  of  pestilence  under 
every  church.  But  here  abuses  have  more  authority  than  laws. 
It  is  prohibited  to  bury  earlier  than  twenty-four  hours  after 
death,  but  I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes  two  persons  carried  to 
the  grave  who  had  drawn  their  last  breath  the  same  day.  It  is 
prohibited  to  biyy  in  the  churches ;  but  I  can  certify  that  in  the 
httle  town  of  Forli,  between  1830  and  1858,  this  law  was  broken 
one  thousand  four  hundred  and  thirty-five  times.  I  have  taken 
the  figures  from  the  official  register. 

The  Roman  clergy  is  interested  in  making  a  charnel-house  of 
all  the  churches.     It  exacts  a  tax  for  breaking  the  law. 

Forli  is  a  small  city  of  seventeen  thousand  souls.  Rome  has 
more  than  one  hundred  and  seventy  thousand.  Calculate  the 
prodigious  quantity  of  human  flesh  that  must  accumulate  every 
year  \mder  the  churches  of  Rome. 

Meanwhile,  the  French  have  constructed  for  the  Romans  the 
cemetery  of  St  Lawrence  outside  the  walls.  This  was  done  in 
1811.  We  made  it  after  the  Roman  fashion,  for  it  was  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  conform  to  the  customs  of  the  country. 

Figure  to  yourself  a  square  enclosure,  paved,  and  surrounded 
with  walls.  Four  hundred  large  slabs  of  stone,  disposed  in  the 
form  of  a  quincunx,  close  up  four  hundred  vaults.or  pits,  each  four 
yards  square.  Every  night  one  of  these  flags  is  raised,  a  cart 
brings  the  dead  of  tliat  day,  which  are  thrown  in  one  after 
another.  The  lime  and  the  rats  consume  the  whole  in  less  than  a 
year,  and  thus  there  is  never  any  want  of  room. 

M.  de  Toumin  tells  us  that  in  his  day  the  Romans  buried  their 
dead  in  a  simple  shroud.     They  saved  in  that  way  four  pine 

boards. 

Has  this  custom  been  preserved  at  Rome  ?    I  d  o  not  know. 


188 


EOifE   OP  TO-DAY. 


DEAXn. 


189 


Several  persons  have  assured  me  that  it  has  not,  but  I  can  scarcelv 
behe^^  them.  The  vault.,  of  St.  Lawrence  and  the  u  e  ofS 
hme  do  not  well  accord  with  the  employment  of  the  coffl,? 

\Vhat  I  can  say,  however,  is  this :  that  in  Bologna  the' „oor 
are  buried  without  a  coffin,  in  a  pit  diiff  by  the  .Dude  of  J 

ener,  just  as  for  planting  potatoes.    It  ;as^  .  g^l.  Jr  piL" 
digger  of  that  admirable  campo  santo  who  informed  me         ^ 

There  is,  m  Rome,  near  the  pyramid  of  Cestius,  and  two  stena 
from  the  powder  magazine,  a  shady  retreat,  dot  ed  wi^h  a  S 
trees,  and  adorned  with  beds  of  flowe.^.     This  is  the  cemettv 
of  the  acatholics.    The  Romans,  by  an  effort  at  toWaUon  rivo 
this  name  to  the  heretical  and  schismatical  foreignei"iu;: 
Church  condemns,  but  whom   the  governmcnf  must  protect 
Amencans,  Russians,  Englishmen,  Germans,  repose  side  bv  ^dt 
m  this  peaceful  and  melancholy  resting-plac;.     Many  artSsl^a 
there  who  came  to  Rome  in  quest  of  talent  and  glorj  b     ,bund 
fever  and  death.    Nearly  all  the  inscriptions  repoaf  in  virions 
forms  the  sad  story,  ^' Here  lies,  far  fromhis  natJelalaJ^^. 
Almost  all  who  sleep  there,  could,  when  dyin-  say  with  <^\J„ 
nedof  Niebelungen,  "Long  wiUmy  mothefan^i  n^br   ter  1 
home  expect  me  in  vain."  ^  uiumers  at 

By  a  freak  of  chance,  in  one  comer  lie  close  together  the  dust  of 
the  son  of  Goethe  and  the  son  of  Charlotte,  Aug^ste  Kesner  Min- 
ister of  Hanover,  who  was  born  in  1778,  and  died  Maicr5  1853 

the  luend  of  Byron  ;  -  heart  of  hearts :  cor  cordium  "  says  tlie 
mscnpuon  :  and  Keats,  that  young  poet  who,  in  desplir  had  IZ 
graved  on  Ins  tomb  this  touching  epitapli : 

THIS   GRAVE 
CONTAINS   ALL   THAT   WA3   MORTAL 
OF   A 

YOUNG    ENGLISH    POET, 

WHO, 

ON    niS    DEATH-BED, 

IN   TEE   BITTERNESS   OF  HIS   HEART 

AT    THE    MALICIOUS    POWER    OF    HIS    ENEMIES, 

DESIRED 
THESE    WORDS    TO    BE    ENGRAVED    ON    HIS    TOMB-STONl : 

HERE    LIES    ONE 

WHOSE   NAME   WAS   WRITTEN    IN    WATER. 

Fehniarv  24   1>^'»1 


h 


Is  not  all  the  bitterness  of  wounded  pride  concentrated  in 
these  last  words — "  Here  hes  one  whose  name  was  written  in 
water  ?" 

At  the  entrance  of  the  cemetery  is  a  small,  neat  lodge,  arranged 
with  all  tlie  scrupulous  regularity  and  precision  characteristic  of 
the  EngUsh.     I  read  there  : 

1.  The  tarilf  of  prices  for  interment. 

2.  The  catalogue  of  valuable  articles  confided  to  the  charge  of 
tlie  porter. 

3.  The  names  of  the  dead  posted  up,  like  those  of  the  occu- 
pants of  a  hotel 

The  official  physicians  of  a  village  of  three  thousand  souls  (in 
the  province  of  Frosinona)  gave  me  tlie  following  details,  for  the 
accuracy  of  which,  however,  I  do  not  vouch : 

*'  The  pontifical  authority  wishes  us  to  order  tlie  sacraments  for 
every  patient  after  our  second  visit.  But  I  know  the  savages 
of  these  mountains  too  well  to  conform  to  the  law.  As  soon  as 
one  of  the  family  has  received  the  sacrament,  tliey  think  of 
nothing  but  hurrying  him  out  of  sight  as  speedily  as  possible. 
They  discontinue  all  treatment,  put  away  the  medicines  in  the 
cupboard,  tear  off  tlie  cataplasms  and  blisters.  Should  the 
patient  ask  for  a  glass  of  water,  they  would  reply,  *  Thou  wiit 
drink  thy  fill  in  paradise.' 

"On  the  other  hand  they  proceed  to  buy  tapers  for  the 
funeral,  and  ask  the  patient  if  everything  is  provided  according 
to  his  wishes.  They  show  him  the  boards  for  the  coffin,  to  prove 
that  the  wood  is  of  choice  quahty.  They  take  the  measure  for 
the  shroud  which  he  is  to  wear  into  the  other  world.  They  put 
water  on  the  fire  to  wash  him  as  soon  as  he  shall  be  dead. 
These  preparations  do  not  go  on  without  numerous  expressions 
of  condolence  and  sympathy.  '  My  poor  father !  My  unhappy 
brother  I  My  unfortunate  cousin  V  As  soon  as  tlie  death-strug- 
gle commences,  the  whole  village  runs  to  the  chamber,  and 
remains  tliere  until  life  is  extinct.  So  much,  politeness  demands. 
From  moment  to  moment  holy  water  is  sprinkled  on  the  head 
of  the  patient  to  drive  away  evil  spirits.  At  every  convulsion, 
the  relatives  throw  themselves  on  tlio  body,  rending  the  air  with 
their  cries.  Nothing  more  would  be  needed  to  kill  a  healtliy 
man.  Those  less  delicate  profit  by  the  occasion  to  detach  a  fin- 
ger-ring or  an  ear-ring.     The  young  man  whom  you  see  there 


190 


EOME   OF  TO-DAY. 


at  the  door  of  his  shop,  went  to  his  father's  death-bed  with  a 
false  key  in  his  pocket.  The  old  man  havinpf  expired,  the  son 
was  inconsolable,  and  exhibited  such  p-ief  that  they  could  not 
get  him  away  from  the  house.  He  remained  alone,  and  plun- 
dered the  cash-box  of  tlic  deceased,  to  the  detriment  of  the  other 
heirs. 

"  I  once  saw  the  last  sacraments  produce  a  very  curious  effect 
on  a  patient  of  mine.     The  night  before,  he  had  saffly  passed 
the  crisis  of  his  disease ;  but  the  family  seeing  that  he  was  worse 
tiian  usual,  summoned  the  priests  in  the  morning  to  administer 
the  sacrament.     I  found  my  man  on  his  back,  a  crucifix  in  one 
hand,  and  a  madonna  in  the  other.      He  pressed  the  sacred 
images  to  his  heart,  and  showed  the  whites  of  his  eyes. 
"  '  Well,  well !'  said  I. 
"  '  Alas !  dear  doctor,  you  see  all  is  over.' 
"  '  Why  ?     Do  you  ft3el  worse  ?' 
" '  I  don't  know ;  but  all  is  over,' 

"  '  Give  me  your  hand ;  let  me  feel  your  pulse.     Pooh,  pooh ! 
you  have  no  fever  now.' 

" '  No  matter  I  go ;  all  is  over.' 
"  '  Show  me  your  tongue :  it  is  magnificent  1' 
'* 'I  am  very  glad,  for  your  sake,  good  doctor;  but  for  me,  all 
is  certainly  over.' 

'•  This  consultation  in  extremis,  with  a  man  who  is  doing  well, 
was  twenty  times  interrupted  by  the  bellowing  of  the  family  and 
the  attendants.  I  had  to  use  force  to  put  the  brawlers  out  of 
doors,  and  tlie  patient  on  his  seat.  He  was  half  cured.  Two 
days  afterward  he  ate  a  pound  of  meat ;  the  Sunday  following 
he  walked  liis  chamber,  repeating, '  It  is  of  no  use,  doctor ;  when 
a  man  has  received  the  sacraments,  we  may  couolude  that  all  is 
over.'  At  the  end  of  eight  or  ten  days  he  returned,  quite  crest- 
fallen, to  his  olives  and  vineyard.  His  appetite  and  strength 
had  come  back.  He  devoured  the  rations  of  a  tiger,  and  did  the 
work  of  an  ox.  But  he  was  not  yet  thoroughly  convinced  of 
his  resurrection,  and  I  had  to  make  him  feel  the  Ibrce  of  several 
blows  on  the  scapula  to  prove  to  him  that  all  was  not  over. 

"  If  the  sick  man  dies,  all  the  people  present  scream  and  weep 
at  once.  It  is  a  duty  imposed  by  propriety.  After  this  tliey  go 
in  quiet  to  the  Brotherhood  of  the  Souls  of  Purgatory.  It  is  tlie 
custom  to  play  a  little  comedy  on  the  arrival  of  the  bier.    A 


DEATH. 


191 


■woman  of  the  household  tries  to  prevent  them  from  carrying  off 
the  body.  They  reason  with  her,  persuade  her,  and  at  length 
she  yields.  Sometimes  the  body  is  still  warm,  for  the  proscrip- 
tion of  the  twenty-four  hours  exists  only  in  the  law.  The  rela- 
tives and  friends  accompany  the  coq>se  to  the  church,  where  it 
Is  left  in  charge  till  night.  No  funeral  service ;  no  more  than  in 
Rome ;  and  that  is  saying  everything.  The  nearest  relative  of 
the  deceased  takes  all  those  who  attend  the  funeral  to  his  own 
house,  and  consoles  them  in  the  best  way  he  can.  I  have  seen 
orphans  so  perfectly  consoled  that  they  went  home  on  their 
heads." 

If  tlie  author  of  this  narrative  has  exaggerated  the  eccentrici- 
ties of  his  fcllow-citizens,  I  leave  it  to  his  conscience.  But  what 
I  myself  have  witnessed  in  the  country,  incUnes  me  to  beheve 
that  he  has  given  the  truth. 

Romans, — my  dear  fiiends, — I  love  you  sincerely,  because  you 
are  oppressed.  But  I  think  that  all  truth  is  proper  to  be  spoken, 
and  I  describe,  without  concealment,  all  that  I  have  seen  and 
heard  while  traversing  your  admirable  country.  If  it  has  been  my 
lot  to  note  some  trait  of  ignorance,  or  of  barbarism,  do  not  sup- 
pose that  I  regard  you  as  ignorant,  or  barbarous,  or  that  I  write 
this  book  against  you.  I  aim  only  at  the  teachers  of  the  people, 
who  bring  Uicm  up  badly,  and  whom  we  shall  change  some  day, 
if  it  so  please  Heaven. 


THE   CATTLE. 


193 


XV. 

THE    CATTLE^ 

THE  Campagna  di  Roma  is  a  vast  meadow,  broken  in  a  few 
places  by  the  plow.  It  is  the  most  beautiful  plain  in  Eu- 
rope ;  it  is  also  the  most  fertile,  the  most  uncultivated,  and  the 
most  unhealthy. 

Six- tenths  of  these  valuable  lands  are  subject  to  mortmain ; 
three-tenths  belong  to  the  princes.  The  remaining  tenth  is  di- 
vided among  private  individuals. 

The  lands  of  the  monasteries  and  those  of  the  princes  are 
farmed  out  to  rich  individuals  called  "  country  merchants."  The 
proprietor  leases  to  them  the  bare  soil,  usually  for  a  short  terra. 
The  farmer  (country  merchant)  has  no  interest  in  constructing 
buildings,  in  planting  trees,  or  in  improving  tlie  soil.  Grain  is 
raised  to  some  extent,  and  with  good  results.  But  the  govern- 
ment levies  a  fixed  tax  amounting  to  twenty-two  per  cent,  of 
the  crop.  Moreover,  the  religious  houses  do  not  scruple,  in  many 
cases,  to  interdict  the  cultivation  of  the  rich  lands  by  an  express 
clause  in  the  lease.  They  fear  lest  the  soil  should  be  impover- 
ished, and  the  revenue  of  subsequent  years  suiTor  in  consequence. 

Another  obsUicle  to  culture  is  the  vexatious  law  which  arbi- 
trarily proliibits  or  permits  exportation.  Suppose  a  grain  mo- 
nopolist should  make  himself  the  absolute  master  of  Franco,  and 
should  be  in  a  position  to  close  all  our  ports  and  frontiers  to  the 
exportation  of  grain,  no  agriculturist  would  run  the  risk  of  pro- 
ducing grain  beyond  the  absolute  wants  of  the  country. 

The  culture  of  grain  involves  enormous  expenses.  It  requires 
many  hands,  important  inatrneJ,  and  a  considerable  number  of 
cattle,  and  all  in  view  of  an  uncertain  result.  The  raisinsr  of 
cattle  requires  but  httle  help,  and  involves  fewer  expenses.     It 


ii 


yields  moderate  but  sure  results.  It  is  tlie  business  most  com- 
patible with  the  unhcalthiness  of  the  climate,  the  depopulated 
condition  of  the  country,  and  the  discouragement  of  agricultural 
enterprises. 

A  farm  of  one  hundred  rubbia  (four  hundred  and  sixty  acres), 
if  cultivated  n>r  grain,  will  require  thirteen  thousand  five  hundred 
and  fifty  days'  work,  and  will  cost  eight  thousand  Koman  crowns 
of  about  one  dollar  each.  It  will  yield,  in  an  average  year,  one 
thousand  three  hundred  measures  of  grain,  which,  at  the  medium 
price  of  ten  crowns,  are  worth  thirteen  thousand  crowns,  the  net 
profit  amounting  to  five  thousand  dollars ;  while  the  same  area 
devoted  to  pasturage  would  yield  scarcely  more  than  one-fifth  of 
that  amount  in  net  profit. 

But  pasturage  prevails.     Let  us  speak  of  that. 

Koman  horses  arc  born  and  reared  in  the  open  air.  There  arc 
no  stables  in  these  vast  sohtudes.  Night  and  day,  summer  and 
winter,  in  fine  weather  and  in  foul,  the  horses  are  out  grazing 
under  the  care  of  a  mounted  herdsman.  A  stallion  lives  at  lib- 
erty with  twenty  or  twenty-five  mares.  The  colts  are  reared  in 
the  open  air,  and  take  no  harm.  They  scarcely  know  more  than 
a  single  disease,  the  harbojie,  which  attacks  them  pretty  much  as 
scarlet  fever  attacks  children,  between  their  eighteenth  and  twen- 
tieth month.  It  is  an  eruption  of  the  glands  of  the  neck.  To 
cure  it  a  few  blisters  are  sufficient, 

Wlu.'n  a  year  old,  the  colts  are  caught  by  means  of  a  lasso,  and 
marked  with  the  initials  of  their  owuor.  At  three  years  old  they 
are  broken,  sold,  and  set  to  work. 

The  breed  is  handsome  and  good.  Distinguished  breeders 
have  told  me  that  the  horses  of  the  Campagna  are  scarcely  sus- 
ceptible of  improvement,  and  that  crossing  does  not  produce  any 
important  result  The  Roman  horse  is  usually  a  fine,  healthy 
animal,  of  moderate  height  and  of  robust  build ;  lively,  rarely 
vicious,  and  full  of  fire,  with  much  endurance.  You  can  see 
horses  who  have  never  eaten  any  thiug  but  grass  and  hay,  and 
do  not  know  the  taste  of  oats,  perform  the  same  leats  of  strength 
as  the  horse  of  the  most  unexceptionable  training. 

Hence,  Piedmont,  Lombardy,  Tuscany,  and  Naples,  all  buy 
their  horses  in  the  Campagna  di  Roma.  The  Romans  themselves 
keep  scarcely  any  but  the  worst. 

A  stallion  will  bring  from  three  hundred  to  tliree  hundred  and 

0 


:i^>pm^;^:-^i0ii'Si;'^c/ ,  t'^-^  "Z  '"■  ;,r-" 


■=--»•:•#"' 


194 


R0M:E    of   T0-D4.Y. 


fifty  crowns  ;  a  mare  three  yea.-s  old,  fiom  seventy  to  one  Imn- 
dred  crowns ;  a  handsome  pair  of  carriage  horses  are  worth  fiorn 
tee  hundred  to  five  hundred  crowns ;  a  fine  saddle-horse  w.ll 
c^rfiom  eighty  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  crowns ;  a  cavalry 
hoi  eight/or  ninety.  Animals  of  less  value  are  reserved  for 
agriculture,  and  cost  only  thirty-five  or  forty  crowns 

It  is  said  that  Roman  horses  at  twenty-five  years  old  and 
more  have  been  found  carable  of  doing  good  service. 

Ev'errbrecder  has  h.s^wn  peeuhar  race.  SilvestnU>  ra,ses 
a  breed  of  chestnut  horses.  Serafini  is  the  owner  of  the  cardi- 
nal's breed.  Prince  Borghese  has  obtained,  by  crossing  a  ve  y 
handsome  breed,  but  they  are  too  slender  and  too  .«'"''  '•^'^<' 
breeds  most  in  esteem  belong  to  the  pnnees  Chig.  and  PK>m- 
bino,  the  duke  Cesarini,  and  the  country  merchants  Silvestrelh, 
Titoni  Viacentini,  Serafini,  Senni. 

Th  Roman  far'mei,  do  not  employ  the  horse  for  carta,  still  less 
for  draught.  Transportation  is  too  difTicult  and  Uie  roads  oo 
bad  F^rm  work  requires  enormous  muscular  strength,  for  the 
mtiow  L  to  be  broken  up.  The  ox  and  the  buH-ab  only  an- 
swer for  this  hard  work.     But  the  horse  is  employed  to  thresh 

""Th^e'lian^^st  ended,  all  the  di.^posable  horses  are  shut  up  in  an 
inclosure.  A  hundred  paces  off  the  sheaves  are  placed,  the  cars 
upwM  on  a  hard  beatin  area.  Six  horses  sUut  off  abreast  nt 
7m  gallop,  and  are  kept  going  round  until  the  straw  is  disen- 
gaged from  the  grain.    It  is  a  hard  task  under  the  burning  sun  of 

■^"Se  grain  is  forthwith  winnowed,  heaped  together,  put  into 
sacks,  and  sent  to  Rome.  The  straw  is  carried  away  or  is  burnec^ 
aecordin.-  to  the  state  of  the  roads  and  the  ncarnes.  of  the 
"wns.  The  field  remains  bare  until  the  first  rajns  of  winter 
bring  up  the  grass.  It  again  becomes  meadow  laud,  and  re 
mains  so  at  least  seven  years. 

I  have  inquired  of  these  immense  farmers  why  they  did  no 
u^  Uireshing  machines.  They  replied  that  it,  was  of  the  highest 
necessity  fo^  them  to  hasten  the  removal  of  the  gram  They 
have  neither  store-houses  nor  barns.  The  country  i.s  unheallhy. 
There  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost.  Every  hours  ^li'l^J  »>'?'' 
cost  the  life  of  a  man.  The  horses  gallop,  the  graui  lalb,  the 
farmer  gathers  up  his  crops  and  betakes  lumselt  to  flight. 


THE   CATTLE. 


195 


The  Romans  of  the  age  of  Cato  did  not  know  of  the  large  gray 
oxen  which  at  present  beautify  the  Campagna  di  Roma.  The 
indigenous  breed  was  small,  red,  and  sliort-horned.  Specimens 
of  it  are  still  to  be  found  among  the  mountains.  It  was  the  ir- 
ruption of  the  barbarian  which  brought  the  long-horned  breed 

into  Italy. 

Thesis  animals  are  well  known,  thanks  to  the  painter's  art,  so 
that  I  have  no  need  to  describe  them.  Their  admirable  frames 
and  tlieir  enormous  weight  of  bone  and  muscle,  wonderfully 
adapt  them  to  field-labor.  A  Norman  grazier  said,  with  reason, 
that  the  Durham  breed  is  better  for  the  butcher.  In  Normandy 
the  ox  is  chiefly  an  instrument  for  transforming  hay  into  beef. 

We  must,  however,  acknowledge  that  the  beef  and  veal  one 
gets  at  Rome  are  of  excellent  quality. 

The  Duke  of  Northumberland  has  just  purchased  of  Titoni, 
an  immense  farmer,  four  heifers  of  one  year  old,  and  two  calves 
of  the  same  age,  for  transportation  to  England. 

Titoni  has  taken  a  farm  containing  two  thousand  four  hundred 
rwbbia  of  meadow-land,  almost  ten  thousand  acres,  for  the  rais- 
ing of  horned  cattle.  Whore  the  land  is  good,  two  cows  will  sub- 
sist very  w'ell  on  one  rubbia. 

The  best  breeds  of  horned  cattle  are  those  of  Rospigliosi,  Gra- 
ziosl,  Titoni,  Silverstrelli,  Dantoni,  Senni,  Grazioli,  Floridi,  Sera- 
fini, Piacentini,  Franceschetti,  Rocchi. 

I  am  not  connoisseur  enough  to  do  justice  to  the  various  Roman 
brccls  of  cattle;  they  all  rfsemble  each  other  at  the  first  glance, 
and,  I  I  e'.ievc,  little  has  been  done  to  imi)rove  them. 

Still  there  has  just  sprung  into  existence  an  Agricultural  Soci- 
ety ;  I  was  present  at  its  first  annual  fair.  The  pontifical 
government  at  first  prohibited  and  then  tolerated  this  novelty, 
which  modestlv  concealed  its  true  character  under  the  name  of 
a  Society  of  Horticulture. 

The  Roman  oxen  are  excellent  workers ;  they  labor  without 
rest  fi-om  daybreak  till  noon ;  until  half-past  two  in  the  winter 
season.  They  have  no  food  but  hay  and  grass,  and  are  very 
robust.  Tiiey  are  castrated  at  three  years  old ;  bulls  of  eight 
years  old  are  also  castrated  for  fattening  and  sale  to  the 
htitchers. 

An  ox  of  three  years  old,  well  broken,  is  worth  fifty  or  sixty 
crowns ;  an  ox  of  eleven  years  may  be  fattened  in  three  months, 


^^F:^; 


lit 


196 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


and  sells  for  from  sixty  to  seventy-five  crowns.  A  fine  cow  for 
the  butcher  is  worth  fifty-five  crowns,  a  crown  being  worth 
about  a  dollar. 

I  have  seen  ono  hundred  and  sixty  yoke  of  oxen  plowing  the 
same  tract  of  land.  Some  months  later  I  saw  eleven  hundred 
workmen  employed  in  reaping  a  field  of  grain.  It  is  a  groat 
industrial  interest  this  Roman  agriculture,  and  requires  an  im- 
mense capital. 

The  most  striking  specimen  of  brute  life  is  the  buffalo.  Ilis 
heavy  and  awkward  frame,  his  long  neck,  his  flat  head,  his  broad 
muzzle,  his  knotty  horns,  his  bare  back,  his  fierce  bellowing,  all 
tell  us  that  this  monster  of  the  Indian  marshes  is  a  relic  escaped 
from  the  deluge,  a  fi'agment  of  a  creation  more  ancient  than  our 
own,  an  archaic  model,  forgotten  in  tlie  recasting,  a  huge  living 
fossil. 

The  Italians  have  acclimated  this  creature  among  them  for  a 
dozen  centuries.  lie  is  a  half  savage  ally,  but  contented  with 
little.  He  gambols  with  delight  in  the  most  fetid  marshes ;  ho 
feasts  on  rushes  and  reeds ;  his  favorite  diversion  is  to  plunge 
into  the  mud  up  to  the  neck,  and  go  to  sleep. 

He  wears  a  ring  in  his  nose,  like  an  Indian  cacique ;  by  that 
he  is  governed,  if  indeed  it  is  not  a  play  upon  words  to  s'ay  that 
he  allows  himself  to  be  governed.  His  master  borrows  him  from 
nature  when  it  is  necessary  to  make  one  of  those  prodigious  ef- 
forts which  surpass  tlie  strength  of  men,  horses,  an<l  oxen.  Yoke 
him  to  a  rock,  tree,  a  mountain,  to  a  forest.  lie  lushos  for- 
ward, head  down,  his  neck  outstretched,  and  his  enormous 
muscles  strained  to  the  utmost.  Everything  yields ;  everytliing 
follows  in  his  train ;  he  goes  on  his  way  like  an  unchained  power, 
and  overthrows  everything  in  his  path.  The  work  finished,  ho 
is  unyoked,  returns  to  his  bog,  and  wallows  in  the  mire. 

This  creature  is  endowed  witli  memory;  the  buflalo  comes 
when  his  name  is  called ;  he  is  twice  baptized,  first,  at  his  birth, 
and  aftenvard  at  the  acre  of  thirteen  mouths.  His  second  name 
remains  with  him  till  he  is  eleven  years  old.  Ho  is  then  led  to 
the  slauQ:htcr-liLHise. 

Quarrels  often  arise  between  tlie  buQalo  and  his  keeper;  tho 
furious  animal  rushes  upon  the  man  and  kills  him,  not  with  his 
horns  but  with  his  head.  If  the  man  is  experienct'tl  in  this  kind 
of  eumbal,  h<«  iii'S  il.M  upon  his  taee,  and  op(*u-<  his  pufket-knife. 


THE   CAITTJ:. 


197 


f 


> 


) 
I 


k\\ 


When  the  buffalo,  who  is  not  very  adroit,  conies  groping  after 
his  victim,  the  man  plants  six  inches  of  steel  in  his  nostrils,  and 
the  monster  betakes  himself  to  flight.  This  is  the  only  reasonhig 
he  can  i-oiiiprehend;  cudgels  break  over  his  back  like  lueifer 
mateh<'^!.     A  gunshot  only  titillates,  agreeably,  his  epidermis.     . 

In  the  routine  Marshes  there  is  a  herd  (»f  buffaloes  employed 
to  clean  out  the  canals.  They  are  urged  into  the  water  with 
long  poles ;  they  swim,  they  become  entangled,  they  tear  up  the 
aquatic  plants  while  passing  along  the  banks,  and  at  length  es- 
cape, loaded  with  slime,  and  crowned  with  adhesive  verdure. 

Rorpighosi  has  fourteen  hundred  buffaloes;  Ce^^arini  eight  hun- 
dred, and  Caserta  one  thousand.  A  male  buffalo,  three  years 
•Id,  is  worth  tliirty-five  crowns ;  a  female  is  worth  eighteen  or 
twenty ;  an  ox  buffalo  will  bring  as  much  as  thirty.  The  flesh 
of  the  buffalo  is  not  very  good,  but  the  Neapolitans  are  satisfied 
with  it,  and  the  Jews  of  the  Ghetto  esteem  it  a  savory  morsel. 
At  Terrncina,  on  the  frontier  of  the  States  of  the  Church,  a  buf- 
falo is  killed  every  week  during  September,  October,  and  No- 
vember. The  people  think  the  flesh  is  more  delicate  when  the 
animal  is  fiitigued ;  they  attach  a  long  cable  to  the  horns  of  their 
unsightly  victim,  and  twenty  robust  fellows  hold  on  by  the  other 
end :  thus  accompanied,  the  buffalo  is  urged  through  the  streets, 
and  when  he  is  making  a  great  rush,  they  stop  him  short ;  they 
then  give  him  another  start,  and  again  check  him,  so  long  as  he 
has  any  strength  left.  He  does  not  rciceive  the  final  blow  until 
he  has  pulled  down  several  trees,  overthrown  several  walls,  and 
crippled  several  passers-by. 

Ot\en  he  is  let  loose  in  an  inclosure :  the  most  ventursome  and 
mischievous  boys  go  out  of  their  houses  to  torment  him,  and 
rush  in  again  as  quickly  as  they  can.  One  day  a  buffalo,  tired 
of  this  kind  of  amusement,  dashed  into  the  door  of  a  coach-house, 
and  ascended  to  the  second  story.  Nothing  was  more  strange  to 
behold  than  this  comeilian  turned  spectator.  The  butcher  alone 
succeeded  in  dislodging  him. 

These  cruel  amusements  suit  the  tastes  of  the  lowest  class.  I 
am  astoni.^^hed  that  an  ecclesiastical  government  has  never  done 
anything  to  soften  the  prevailing  manners  of  the  people.  On 
tlie  bridges  of  Rome  you  see  boys  fishing  with  swallows.  I 
have  met  with  little  urchins  who  threw  sparrows  at  an  olive  tree 
just  as  th.ey  wonM  throw  stones,  and  others  who  beat  each  other 


198 


ROME   OF   TO-DAY. 


with  kittens.  The  bird-catchers  of  the  Rotunda  sell  to  the  pass- 
ers-by gold-finches,  linnets,  and  chaflinches,  whose  eyes  they 
have  put  out.  The  law  of  Grammont  is  one  of  those  which 
should  be  introduced  hero.  But  how  many  centuries  must  elapse 
before  there  will  be  any  laws  in  Rome? 

Pshaw !  we  should  despair  of  nothing. 

In  the  uncultivated  region,  which  extends  all  round  the  city, 
are  raised  large  flocks  of  sheep  of  excellent  breeds ;  besides  the 
Spanish  and  the  mixed,  much  is  thought  of  the  Sopra-vissana  of 
Yisso,  near  Spoleta.  This  animal  is  vigorous  and  strong,  and  is 
capable  of  resisting  severe  changes  of  the  weather. 

The  wool  of  this  country  is  exported  to  France,  Switzerland, 
and  Piedmont.     The  manufactures  of  the  district,  which  were* 
formerly  numerous  and  celebrated,  are  now  confmed  to  coarse 
cloths. 

The  three  first  qualities  of  wool  are  sold  at  from  twenty-one 
to  thirty-one  cents  a  pound,  according  to  the  demand  ;  the  fourth 
and  fifth,  from  eighteen  to  twenty-four  cents ;  the  black,  from 
fourteen  to  eighteen  cents. 

The  Roman  pound,  it  must  be  remembered,  contains  nearly 
twelve  ounces  avoirdupois. 

Like  the  oxen  and  the  horse«»,  the  sheep  live  constantly  in  the 
open  air.  They  pasture  nine  months  on  the  plain.  In  July, 
August,  and  September,  they  are  conducted  to  the  momitain. 

The  hlack  animal  (this  is  the  hog,  if  my  readers  will  excuse 
the  indelicacy  of  mentioning  his  name)  is  abandoned  to  the  sujall 
proprietors  of  the  elevated  regions.  The  mountaineers  bring  him 
up  with  tenderness,  for  he  costs  nothing  to  feed.  He  lives  on 
the  most  intimate  terms  with  the  family,  who  seldom  go  out 
without  him.  Whenever  they  f^o  into  the  fields,  they  permit 
him  to  grub  up  one  corner  to  his  heart  s  content.  They  assign 
liim  a  place  at<  the  bottom  of  some  ilitch  ;  the  young  girls  fasten 
a  cord  round  his  body,  and  walk  him  out.  I  have  myself  seen, 
more  than  once,  in  the  toilsome  paths  that  conduct  to  the  villages, 
a  boy  attached  to  the  tail  of  a  hog,  like  a  ship  to  the  stern  of  a 
tug.  The  notables  of  the  ])ari.^h  go  a-visiting  with  their  hog, 
just  as  I  do  with  my  greyhound.  This  friend  of  the  household 
is  slaughtered  in  th(;  month  of  September. 

The  raising  of  cattle  has  a  right,  if  not  to  the  protection,  at 


THE   CATTLE. 


199 


i 


ii» 


least  to  the  tolerance  of  the  government,  for  it  is  one  of  the  most 
fruitfiil  sources  of  national  wealth. 

I  am  told  that  the  gi'aziers  are  subjected  to  vexatious  taxes, 
and  that  an  ox,  before  being  slaughtered,  must  pay  to  the  State 
twenty  or  thirty  per  cent  of  his  value. 

The  horses  which  thrive  in  the  Agro-Romano  are  subject  to  a 
tax  of  five  per  cent  every  time  they  change  hands,  so  that,  if 
one  of  them  is  sold  twenty  times,  the  grazier  and  the  treasury 
each  share  one  half  the  price. 

A  Roman  will  perhaps  reply,  that  in  the  joyous  country  of 
France,  thanks  to  the  enormous  taxes  on  conveyances  of  pro- 
perty, the  treasury  may,  in  four  or  five  years,  get  the  entire  value 
of  an  estate.     I  will  not  dispute  this  point,  for  it  is  true. 

Almost  all  the  figures  contained  in  this  chapter  were  furnished 
to  me  at  Rome  by  an  agriculturist,  who  is  both  very  honorable 
and  very  competent 

The  poor  fellow,  who  was  very  rich,  was  inconsolable  at  not 
being  able  to  travel.  He  was  ashamed  at  not  knowing  any  part 
of  the  great  world  but  Rome  and  its  suburbs,  and  would  have 
given  a  considerable  sum  of  money  for  a  simple  passport 

Do  not  suppose,  however,  that  they  refused  liim  this  rag  of 
paper.  The  police  is  too  clever  to  do  any  such  thing.  Mo'n- 
seigncur  Matteucci,  vice-chamberlain  of  the  holy  church,  director 
general  of  the  police,  referred  him  very  politely  to  the  chief  of 
the  passport  ofl'ice,  but  this  honorable  functionary  was  never  to 
be  found  at  home.     This  game  lasted  several  years. 

I  learn  to-day  from  the  journals,  that  my  poor  friend  has  re- 
ceived his  passport  without  having  asked  for  it,  like  the  son  of 
the  celebrated  goldsmith,  Castellani,  and  so  many  other  Romans, 
who  are  an  honor  to  the  city  of  their  birth.  They  have  not  been 
exiled?  No;  but  they  have  received  a  paternal  recommendation 
to  leave  Rome  and  return  no  more. 

They  will  return;  perhaps. 


^^rf-n^ 


XVI. 

AN    EXCURSION    SOUTH. 

T  HAD  promised  myself  not  to  quit  the  States  of  the  Church 
J-  without  having  taken  an  excursion  to  Sounino.  I  had 
heard  so  much  about  this  little  to%\'n,  its  name  occurs  so  often  in 
the  history  of  brigandage,  the  skill  of  the  painter  has  so  often 
represented  tlie  costumes  and  the  exploits  of  its  inhabitants,  that 
I  wished  to  see  the  country  and  men  with  my  own  eyes,  and  to 
discover  whetlier  there  remained  in  the  place  or  its  inhabitants 
any  vestiges  of  the  past.  The  enterprise  was  difficult,  not  only 
because  Sonnino  is  three  days  from  the  Vatican,  and  far  distant 
from  the  frequented  routes,  but  especially  because  I  was  a  for- 
eigner, and  a  foreign  traveler  seldom  converses  except  with  inn- 
keepers. An  excellent  and  respectable  friend  at  Rome  oflered 
to  release  me  from  my  embarrassment.  He  promised  to  take  mo 
to  Sonnino  in  his  carriage,  to  lodge  me  with  persons  whom  he 
knew,  and  to  introduce  me  to  the  private  hfe  of  the  inhabitants. 
lie  had  visited  the  place  about  the  year  1830.  He  was  sure  of 
finding  there  an  aged  woman,  the  widow  of  one  or  two  brig- 
ands. He  had  formerly  employed  her  as  a  model,  and  now  aided 
her  with  a  small  pension.  I  gladly  accepted  so  agreeabU^  an  in- 
vitation, and  we  set  out  on  the  10th  of  June,  1858. 

AJbano,  Ariccia,  Genzano,  ;uid  almost  all  the  villages  M'  this 
surburhan  region  wear  an  aspect  of  grandeur.  Palaces  and  con- 
vents abound.  The  houses  of  the  great  farmers,  witiiout  aiming 
at  ostentation,  are  lufly  and  commodious.  Tiiey  bear  the  seal  of 
rustic  simplicity,  and  do  not  indicate  the  parvenu.  In  the  dis- 
tricts near  the  capital  the  professions  of  butcher,  bnker,  grocer, 
etc.,  are  exorcis<Ml  by  virtue  of  a  license  as  public  fuuotionai-Ies! 


AN   EXCURSION   SOUTH. 


201 


! 


• 


The  place  of  a  grocer  is  solicited  just  as  a  lottery  office,  or  a 
license  to  sell  tobacco,  or  salt,  or  spiiits  and  wines. 

This  Ucensing  is  practiced  throughout  the  Pontifical  States. 
Insurance  companies,  glass  works,  sugar  refmeries,  candle  manu- 
factories, every  branch  of  industry  of  any  importance  is  founded 
upon  a  license.  Even  the  very  panniers  in  which  fruit  is  exposed 
for  sale,  in  the  square  of  Navona,  are  hired  to  the  hucksters  by 
a  licensed  agent. 

From  Albano  to  Velletri,  we  cross  a  certain  number  of  bridges, 
built  by  the  pope.     Several  inscriptions  take  care  to  apprise  us 
of  this  fact.     I  do  not  know  any  country  where  the  rage  for  in- 
scri[»tions  is  carried  so  far.     There  is  not  a  bridge  thrown  over  a 
brook,  or  a  station  erected  for  four  sentinels,  but  a  marble  slab  is 
set  up  to  perpetuate  the  name  of  the  pontiff  who  has  rendered 
liimself  illustrious  by  so  conspicuous  a  benefit.     Pretty  near  the 
Eternal  City  there  is  a  spring  of  mineral  water,  where  tlie  grand- 
sons of   Romulus  go  to  purge  themselves,  in  pleasure  parties. 
Inscriptions  upon  inscriptions  !     Such  a  pontiff  conveyed  the 
water;  such  another  repaired  the  conduits;  such  another  ce- 
mented them  anew.     This  prodigality  of  pompous  words  would 
seem,  at  first  sight,  somewhat  mean  and  ridiculous.     But  it  is  a 
Roman  custom.      Uso  Romano  !  two  words  which  explain  and 
even  excuse  all.     It  is  true  tliat  if  the  ancients  had  been  more 
sparing  in  their  inscriptions,  we   should  be  ignorant  of  many 
things  which  marble  and  stone  have  taught  us.     Inscriptions 
have  ever  been  one  of  the  richest  fountains  of  historical  knowl- 
edge. 

They  play  us  false,  however,  sometimes.  Witness  the  inscrip- 
tion wliich  attributes  to  Pius  VII.  the  admirable  works  with 
which  the  French  administration  embellished  the  Pincian  Hill. 
The  popes  have  every  where  efiaced  tlie  traces  of  our  presence. 
They  have  retained  nothing  but  our  benefits.  The  councilors  of 
Pius  VII.,  after  the  restoration,  did  all  they  could  to  suppress 
every  thing  that  reminded  them  of  France .  It  was  even  pro- 
posed to  take  away  the  sti-eet -lamps,  which  General  MioUis  and 
M.  de  Tournon  had  introduced  in  Rome. 

I  could  find  but  a  single  monument  which  had  preserved  the 
name  of  this  brave  and  illustrious  MioUis.  It  is  a  Uttle  slab  of 
marble,  hidden  in  the  grotto  of  Tivoli. 

During   the  revolution   of  1849,  when  Mazzini   reigned   at 

9* 


202 


ROME   OF   TO-DAY. 


Rome,  and  the  Holy  Fatlier  at  Portiei,  the  beautiful  viaduct 
which  connects  Albano  to  Ariccia  was  forcibly  inten-upted.  A 
simple  farmer  of  the  neii^hborhood  opened  liis  purse  and  contin- 
ued the  works  at  his  own  risk  and  peril.  No  inscription  per- 
petuates the  memory  of  this  boautiful  incitlent. 

Velletri  is  a  vilhige  of  sixteen  thousand  souls,  and  is  the  capi- 
t-il  of  a  province.  You  find  there  a  bishop  and  a  prefect,  as  at 
Versailles.  There  are  also  brigands,  for  Velletri  is  upon  a  moun- 
tain, surrounded  with  forests  and  secret  passes,  and  at  the  en- 
trance of  that  cclel)rated  campo  morto  belonfrinfr  to  the  chapter 
of  Saint  Peter.  T  have  already  stated  why  the  Plain  of  Death, 
or  campo  morio,  is  a  place  frequented  by  dangerous  characters. 
Tlie  right  of  asylum  attracts  a  multitude  of  Uiieves  and  assas- 
sins to  the  privileged  security  of  its  insalubrious  enclosure.  Its 
proximity  to  Velletri  imparts  to  that  city  a  sort  of  moral  insa- 
lubrity, which  has  recently  been  manifested  by  the  crime  of 
Vendetta. 

The  following  is  the  story  of  this  affair,  as  it  circulates  from 
mouth  to  mouth,  in  the  city  and  in  the  neighborhood  : 

Below  Velletri,  and   near  the  gate  which  leads  to  Naples 
there  is  a  convent  of  Jesuits.     These  reverend  fathers  keep  a 
school.     I  have  just  heard  a  murmur  of  infant  voices,  and  I  read 
over  tlie  door,  "  Chssis  ehmentaHsy 

Their  chapel  is -a  very  ancient  edifice.  I  noticed  a  very  fine 
arch  of  the  Renaissance  period,  a  ceiling  which  was  very  rich, 
tliough  of  doubtful  taste,  and  a  fine  fresco,  of  the  school  of  Peru- 
gino ;  but  the  most  precious  of  all  their  treasures  was  a  miracu- 
lous Madonna,  painted  by  St.  Luke.  History  does  not  say  that 
the  evangelist  St.  Luke  was  eitlier  a  painter  or  a  sculptor.  It  is 
even  known  that  he  was  not  converted  by  St.  Paul  until  after  the 
death  of  Jesus.  Still,  public  credulity  is  pleased  to  attach  his 
name  to  all  the  ancient  representations  of  the  virgin  and  child 
whether  in  painting  or  in  sculpture.  It  was  thus  that  in  ancient 
Greece  the  popular  faith  attributed  to  Hercules  all  those  achieve- 
ments with  the  club  which  were  in  any  way  memor;d)le. 

However  this  may  be,  the  miraculous  image  of  Velletri  is 
kept  with  the  most  scnipulous  care  in  a  niche  closed  up  with 
shutters,  and  situated  in  tlie  recess  of  a  chapel,  protected  by  an 
iron  grating.     The  population  of  the  neighboring  village  offered 


AN   EXCUKSION   SOUTH. 


203 


) 


a  superstitious  worship  to  this  picture,  and  brought  rich  offerings 
to  it  every  year. 

An  innkccr)er  of  the  Campo  Morto,  named  Vendetta,  projected 
a  daring  si)eculation.  For  a  long  time  he  had  black-mailed  the 
people  of  Velletri  and  its  neighborhood.  From  one  he  demanded 
two  crowns  ;  Irom  another  ten  or  twelve.  Vv'lioever  had  a  har- 
vest ready  for  the  sickle,  trees  loaded  witli  fruit,  or  a  brother  on 
a  jouiney,  paid,  wilhout  hositati(>n,  this' singular  tax.  Still  Ven- 
detta became  in^[>Ired,  at  length,  with  a  disgust  for  his  trade,  al- 
though it  was  so  lucrative,  lie  cherished  the  scheme  of  resuming 
bis  place  in  society  with  a  moderate  income  and  an  honorable 
occupation.  To  attain  Ihis  end  he  could  hit  upon  no  expedient 
more  ingenious,  or  more  to  his  purpose,  than  to  carry  off  the  Ma- 
donna of  Velletri,  and  conceal  it  in  a  sure  place. 

A  lete  was  near  at  hand  at  which  the  chimes  were  to  be  rung, 
and  the  Madonna  exhibited  to  the  populace,  with  all  her  jewels. 
The  sacristan  opened  the  niche,  and  with  cries  of  sorrow  mado 
known  the  fact  that  the  Madonna  had  disappeared  1  The  news 
soon  spread  over  Velletri ;  search  was  made  in  every  direction, 
but  in  vain ;  the  people  of  the  adjoining  villages  were  in  a  state 
of  ferment,  and  the  rural  clergy  accused  the  Jesuits  of  having 
robbed  themselves ;  the  Jesuits  recriminated  upon  the  priests  of 
Velletri,  and  finally  the  convent  was  attacked,  pillaged,  and  de- 
stroyed by  an  idolatrous  mob. 

To  crown  all,  on  the  ensuing  Sunday,  during  the  celebration 
of  high  ma«s.  Vendetta  mounted  a  seat,  poniard  in  hand,  and 
deliberately  denounced  himself!  He  begged  the  people  to  ac- 
cept his  excuses,  and  promised  to  restore  the  Madonna  so  soon 
as  he  had  made  his  peace  with  the  authorities.  The  latter  treat 
with  him  as  with  an  ec^ual  powder;  Vendetta  demands  a  free 
pardon  fur  himself  and  brother,  a  certain  income,  and  a  post  under 
government.  His  requests  are  acceeded  to,  but  Rome  disavows 
the  acts  of  her  agents ;  the  mountaineers  rise,  en  masse,  and 
threaten  to  sack  Velletri ;  the  brigantl,  yielding  to  superior  num- 
bers, reveals  the  place  where  the  Madonna  is  concealed,  and 
gives  himself  up  unconditionally.  No  one  in  Velletri  doubts 
tlKit  he  will  lose  his  head. 

The  Madonna  is  restored  ;  a  crowd  of  devotees  indicate  to  me 
the  chapel  where  she  performs  her  miracles  •  but  a  blue  curtain 


204 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


embroidered  with  the  initials  of  Mary,  prevent  me  from  seeing 
St.  Luke's  chef  dceuvre. 

Vendetta  is  a  robber  of  a  declininn^  age.  He  has  liad  his  short 
reign  of  audacity,  and  this  speech,  delivered  before  a  whole  con- 
gregation, is  no  common  action.  Still,  how  dilforent  from  Passa- 
tore  !     He  was  indeed  a  man  of  bold  deeds ! 

Passatore  once  captured  Forlimpopoll,  a  town  of  five  thousand 
inhabitants.  One  evening  all  the  notables  are  assembled  at  the 
theater ;  the  curtain  rises,  and  upon  the  stage  appears  a  chorus 
of  armed  men,  who  chain  the  attention  of  tlie  audience.  The 
tenor  entere,  that  is,  Passatore  himself,  holding  a  paper  in  his 
hand. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  says.  "  the  exits  from  the  theater  are  guard- 
ed, the  city  is  in  our  power,  but  we  shall  do  no  harm.  We  have 
laid  Forlimpopoli  under  a  contribution  of  so  many  crowns,  dis- 
tributed as  follows  :  each  of  you  will  please  pass  out  as  his  name 
is  called,  and,  under  a  safe  escort,  produce  the  sum  he  owes  us. 
I  begin." 

He  begins  the  list,  and  finishes  without  interruption.  The  ran- 
som is  paid  upon  the  nail,  and  the  captain  retires  with  larger 
receipts  than  the  theater  has  ever  before  enjoyed. 

Aside  from  his  audacity,  Passatore  possessed  some  redeeming 
qualities.  Under  no  circumstances  would  he  despoil  a  poor 
man;  more  than  once  he  has  been  known  to  empty  his  purse 
into  pockets  whicli  he  had  found  empty. 

Having  been  on  one  occasion  seriously  wounded,  he  stood  in 
need  of  medical  services.  But  how  find  a  pliysician  willing  to 
thrust  his  head  into  the  lion's  mouth  ?  The  difliculty  was  over- 
come by  forcibly  seizing  the  most  reputable  surgeon  of  the  dis- 
trict, who  was  detained  until  the  cure  was  eflected.  Tlio  brigand 
then  ordered  his  treasurer  to  release  him,  after  having  paid  him, 
which  was  done. 

"  How  much  did  you  give  him  ?"  asked  Passatore. 

"  Ten  crowns !" 

"  Ten  crowns  to  the  man  who  saved  the  illustrious  Passatore  I 
Are  you  crazy  ?  Run  after  him — give  him  a  hundred,  and  be 
sure  to  tell  him  that  is  nothing!" 

Imagine  the  terror  of  the  physician  when  he  found  himself 
overtaken  by  a  horseman  at  full  gallop. 

Six  months  allerward  the  doctor  was  leisurely  crossing  the 


AN   EXCUllSION   SOUTH. 


205 


) 


) 


»■  • 


mountains  upon  bis  mule,  when  Hite  again  brought  h.m  in^  con- 
tact with  his  fornier  patient.  This  time  he  regretted  havmg 
saved  the  bripind's  hfe ;  but  Passatore  overwhelmed  him  witli 
politeness,  and  ended  by  asking  him  the  city  time. 

Upon  seeing  his  prescrv(^r  draw  out  a  common  silver  watch, 

Tassatoro  exclaimed :  . 

"  Is  it  possible  that  the  physician  of  Passatore  carries  only  a 

silver  watch  ?    Give  mo  your  watch  1" 

He  dashed  it  against  a  rock. 

A  few  <lays  aRorward  the  doctor  found  on  his  table  an  excel- 
lent dironometor  of  London  make,  imported  into  Italy  by  an 
En^lisli  tourist,  who  possibly  still  regrets  Its  loss. 

Our  h.TO  was  killed  in  a  inelc'e.     The  pontificals  retained  the 
body  but  his  renown  still  lived  among  the  mountains ;  and  his 
bandeudeavored  to  keep  .ip  the  belief  that  he  had  escaped.    In 
order  to  establish  the  identity  of  the  corpse,  the  captors  resorted 
to  the  contemptible  plan  of  exhibiting  it  to  his  own  mother,  an 
old  and  decrepid  woman.     Supported  by  the  courage  which 
liatrcd  and  voncreance  can  alone  inspire,  this  feeble  creature, 
thou-h  dctainedlfor  an  hour  and  a  half  in  the  presence  of  the 
corn°e  obstinately  refused  to  recognize  its  identity.     The  proot 
seemed  conclusive,  and  in  the  evening  she  was  set  at  hberty. 
But  nature  finally  asserted  its  rights,  and  at  last  the  mother 
threw  herself  upon  tl.e  body  of  her  son,  batlimg  it  with  her 
tears,  and  pouring  out  execrations  upon  the  soldiers  who  had 

'^  Thorwho  have  never  visited  the  Pontine  Marshes  have  an 
idea  that  they  are  an  extended  tract  of  sterile  and  fever-breeding 
bo-  as  disagreeable  to  the  eye  as  U.ey  are  repugnant  to  the 
smeli.  Nothhig  can  be  further  from  the  truth.  ^Ije  Pontine 
Marshes  form,  during  three-fourths  of  the  year,  one  of  U.e  most 
charmiiK'  as  also  one  of  the  richest  districts  of  Europe. 

I  "m.  an  extended  plain,  bounded  on  one  side  by  the  sei, 
on  the'^olher  bv  a  range  of  picturesque  mountains,  cultivated  to 
the  r  V  rv  summits,  their  upper  slopes  forming  one  magnificent 
%.  of  olive  treJs,  whose  bluish  foliage  gives  t  em  t.  appear- 
ance of  always  being  baU.ed  in  the  morning  haze.  Ihe  lower 
Tpes  are  pLtcl  wi-h  groves  of  well-bearing  orange-trees 
Forests,  me  dows,  and  cultivated  fields  dinde  the  plain  T^e 
for  sts  of  vigoroul  and  loHy  growth,  attest  the  incredible  fertJity 


.iirj.t  ^1  ^t^ 


■  ;»<j*ui\ ' 


206 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


00.0.  a..  pe..r,..e  the  ...:^..  ^^^  S:^^^:^''""' 
The  pastures  teem  ^vi,h  countless  herds,  s„oh  a,  not  even 
Amenca  or  the  Ukraine  can  rival      Covro  r,r  i  V  ■, . 

gallop  at  liberty  within  vast  incburef  an,    c  t,     an  1  1   ff?" 
peacefnllv  nm,^  fK^  7         •         1  '  cattle  an-l  buffaloes 

ptriteiuuy  crop  tnc  luxuriant  horhuo-o      ti,^  ^■ 

Cultivated  farms  are  few  in  numhor  Knf  ^r  • 

In  spring  it  is  not  uncommon  to  seton;iunae  r""'r"  Z^''",'- 
plowing  the  same  field.     At  the  end  °°'  '^^  ^"ke  of  cattle 

a  field  of  grain  a  square-lfagu  i,  eltenf  Wh°'  .""'^.  °'^''  '"' 
prolincally,  and  nle  attaint"  "^  a  Wht  i  at  .n"  ''">  '"" 
back  is  totally  concealed  between  tl  ^r     -s     \ul"  Z 

Open  drains  suffice  to  produce  all  these  good  results      Al.no-. 

lecta  the  sand  m  dunes  Ton    h.\  ^,^^  ^^'^^^  ^^'"^^^  ^vhich  col- 

Gironde,  also  covers  wthTth  !""'  of  Gascony  and  the 

,    ^c.  covers  vMth  it  the  western  coast  of  Italy  so  as 


AN   EXCURSION   SOUTH. 


207 


I   I    » 


to  absorb  the  streams.  The  only  difTercnce  between  our  lands 
and  these  is  in  the  greater  depth  of  the  Italian  soil  and  the  ab- 
sence of  aZi05.  The  rays  of  the  sun  are  also  more  ardent,  and 
vegetation  i',  consequently,  ranker. 

ilowevcr,  every  thitig  has  not  been  done  for  the  Marshes,  for 
they  are  not  habitable.  The  cultivators  descend  from  the  moun- 
tains, sow,  reap,  and  glean,  and  then  flee  for  their  lives. 

An  extension  of  the  system  of  canals,  with  a  greater  fall  m  the 
current,  would  remedy  this  condition  of  things. 

The  detritus  of  vegetable  matter  forming  this  fertile  soil  di». 
en-arre''  under  the  almost  tropical  heat,  a  subtile  miasma,  inap- 
preciable to  the  senses  but  fatal  to  health.  The  decomposition 
of  animal  matter,  though  fetid,  is  innocuous— nay  almost  salu- 
brious. There  is  no  danger  in  living  at  Montfau^on  ;  whilst  these 
perfumed  fields  generate  the  plague.  When  the  July  sun  has 
set  at  liberty  the  gases  lurking  under  the  sod,  the  winds  carry 
them  whithersoever  they  will ;  and  at  ten  leagues'  distance  m 
tbe  mountains,  a  naturally  healthy  locality,  we  see  men  dying  as 

if  poisoned. 

Tills  pest,  which  at  regular  intervals  decimates  the  population 
of  the  States  of  the  Holy  Father,  and  which  grows  worse  every 
year,  is  not  beyond  remedy.     Some  practical  operations  in  farra- 
in<-  would  expel  all  the  poisons  from  the  ground.     By  turning 
up°the  soil,  and  thus  setting  free  the  deleterious  gases,  the  whole 
r(-/ion  would  be  rendered  healthy.     I  do  not  altogether  despair 
</seein<r  thif^  revolution,  which,  in  less  than  twenty-five  years, 
would  enrich   the  land-holders  and  people  the  Campagna.     A 
few  steam-plows  would  work  wonders.     No  country  is  so  ad- 
mirably adapted,  from  its  level  surface,  to  this  plan  of  cultivation. 
The  true  friends  of  the  Roman  people  should  preach  up  steam,  as 
the  apostles  preached  the  gospel.     It  is  to  be  feared,  however, 
that  the  popular  mind  is  but  illy  prepared  to  receive  such  inno- 

vations.  „ 

Xothin*^  can  present  a  more  singular  appearance  than  a  larm 
in  the  Pontine  Marches.  You  enter  a  village  which,  for  threo 
or  four  months,  is  almost  abandoned.  The  buildings,  with  few 
exceptions,  belong  to  the  lord  of  the  soil.  His  ducal  escutcheon 
surmounts  the  door-ways  of  even  the  cottages.  The  granaries 
he  has  constructed,  the  wells  he  has  dug,  are  so  many  monu- 


208 


ROME   OF   TO-DAY. 


ments  to  his  glory.     Pompous  inscriptions  unblusbing^y  entreat 
you  not  to  forget  him. 

In  the  center  of  the  village  an.l  of  the  estate  stands  ])is  pal- 
ace, an  immense  square  pile  crowned  by  a  tower,  from  which 
the  hours  are  sounded.     This  edifice  lias  never  seen  its  owner, 
nor  his  father,  nor  grandfather,  thougli  it  may  be  that  his  great- 
grandfather has  once  stopped  there  iu  passing.     The  funiifT  has 
estabhshed  his  office  in  this  monument.     Clerks  may  be  seen 
passing  in  and  out,  cigar  in  the  mouth,  and  the  forgotten  pen 
stuck  behind  the  ear.     Toward  night-fall  the  guardFans  of  the 
stock,  the  overseers,  and  the  sworn  superintendents,  distinguished 
by  a  silver  plate  stamped  Avitii  the  ducal  arms,  ride  in  upon  their 
ambling  horses,  to  make  their  reports  and  ix^ceive  orders.     Carts 
arrive  laden  with  grain,  or  with  bullocks,  thrown  down  upon 
tlieir  sides,  their  logs  tied,  and  muzzled  with  bands  of  hay.     The 
products  are  registered  and  sent  to  Rome  ;  not,  however,  until 
after  each  employe  has  helped  liimself  to  as  much  as  he  can 
safely  purloin.     Yet  so  fertile  is  the  soil,  and  so  rapid  the  increase 
of  stock,  tliat  the  country  factor  will  put  aside  some  ten  thousand 
crowns  by  the  end  of  the  season.     As  to  the  proprietor,  the 
master  of  plain  and  chateau,  the  Duke  of  Carabas,  you  ma'y  be 
sure  that  he  will  never  hear  any  thing  of  all  this  wealth.     Ho 
has  anticipated  the  income  of  several  years  in  order  to  raise  the 
means  of  giving  a  ball  or  laying  out  a  garden.     It  is  even  said 
that  hLs  affairs  are  in  so  embarrassed  a  condition,  that  he  eon- 
templates  leasing  out  his  palace  in  Rome,  and  economizing  by 
travel  in  France  or  Germany.  ° 

We  quit  the  new  road  leading  from  Rome  to  Naples,  which 
crosses  the  Pontine  Marshes  in  a  straight  line.  Our  horses  slowly 
climb  the  ancient  highway,  now  abandoned  as  a  post-route,  and 
of  course  sadly  neglected.  At  hist  we  reacli  Piperno,  a  town  of 
five  thousand  inhabitants^,  and  the  seat  of  government  of  the 
province  of  Froisinone.  Our  inn,  the  only  one  in  the  place,  is  a 
granary.  We  have  to  pass  tlirough  the  wagon-house  in  order 
to  reach  our  rooms  in  the  second  storj-.     And  such  rooms ! 

The  situation  of  the  village  is,  however,  very  picturesque. 
The  market  is  held  in  the  shade  of  some  fine  orange-trees.  The 
notables  of  the  place  assemble  every  day  before  the  apothecary's 
door.  I  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  physician,  the  surgeon, 
the  phlebotomist,  the   notary,  and   several   councilors.      Here 


AN   EXCURSION   SOUTH. 


209 


► 


comes  the  curate.  He  halts  a  few  paces  from  our  group  to  tie 
up  two  or  three  pounds  of  cherries  in  his  pocket  handkerchief. 
The  neighboring  lemon- vender  hangs  out  some  pieces  of  lemon 
rind,  as  an  ;umounceinent  that  ices  are  re.atly.  I  enter  into  con- 
versation witli  the  notables,  and  am  assured  that  the  people  are 
by  no  means  unhappy,  that  property  is  equally  divided,  the  olive 
crop  is  abundant,  oil  brings  high  prices,  and,  finally,  that  there 
are  neitlier  nobles  nor  beggars  in  the  commune. 

By  half  past  two  the  houses  are  all  closed,  not  excepting  even 
tlie  hospitable  establishment  of  the  apothecary.  It  is  the  hour 
of  tlie  siesta,  and  the  inhabitants  slumber  until  five.  In  the 
meantime  I  make  the  tour  of  the  town.  The  old  ramparts  are 
covered  with  gardens  and  orange  groves.  An  inscription,  arrest- 
ing my  attention,  I  stop  and  read  : 

PAUSE    FOR   A   MOMENT,  TRAVELER, 

HOWEVER    GREAT    THY    UASTE. 

PRIVERNIUM,  AN  ANCIENT   CITY   OF   LATIUM, 

TUE   CAPITAL  OF  TUE  VOLSCII, 

A   ROMAN    MUNICIPALITY, 

A    VICTIM   TO    TEUTONIC    FURY, 

HAS   LEFT,  AS   THOU   MAY'sT   BEHOLD, 

FEW   TRACES   IN    THE    RUINS   WHICH    COVER 

THE    NEIGHBORINO   PLAIN. 

THE    NEW    EDIFICES    WHICH    CROWN    THE    SUMMIT 

OF    THIS    HILL 

BEAR   WITNESS   TO   THE   GREAT   SOULS   AND   GENEROUS   SENTIMENTS 

OF    THE    BRAVE    CITIZENS, 
WHO    HAVE    RESUSCITATED    THE    NAME    AND    THE    EXISTENCE 

OF   THEIR   ALMOST   FORGOTTEN   COUNTRY. 

THAT   Tins   GLORY   OF    PRIVERNIUM    AND   THE   PR1VERNIAN3 

MAY   NOT   PASS   UNAPPRECIATED    BEFORE    THEE, 

TUE   SENATE    AND    PEOPLE   OF   PRIVERNIUM 


HAVE    ERECTED    THIS    MONUMENT, 


THIS,  THE   YEAR   OF   REDEMPTION,   1753. 
RESTORED   IN    1845. 

The  Privernians  advise  us  to  take  a  relay  of  horses,  better 
tliree  than  two,  if  we  wish  to  reach  Sonnino  before  the  close  of 
day.     We  adopt  their  advice,  and  leave  the  capital  of  the  Volscii 


210 


ROMK   OF   TO-DAY. 


by  the  Consular  road.      A  side  route  is   known   as  the  Via 
Camilla. 

Sonnino,  perched  upon  the  summit  of  a  rock,  is  visible  at  a 
great  distance.  Its  buildinjrs  are  of  a  uniform  j^ray  tint — the 
color  of  ruins.  AVe  may  distinguish  the  bases  of  a  few  half- 
demolished  towers,  the  sole  remains  of  the  ancient  wall.  Two 
or  three  houses,  of  a  dead  white,  dot  the  landscape,  partiallv 
relieving  its  gloomy  sameness.  There  is  something  sinister  even 
about  the  road,  though  bordered  with  flowers.  The  olive,  vine, 
clematis,  blackberry,  and  bramble  blossom  in  profusion,  tlie  buds 
of  the  myrtle  are  bursting  open,  yet  this  luxuriant  growth  of  the 
Italian  spring  speaks  to  us  of  neither  love  nor  pleasure.  As  wo 
ride  along,  we  peer  into  the  gloomy  ravines  which  cross  our  way ; 
we  lift  our  eyes  to  the  lofty  cliifs.  A  few  plots,  occupying  the 
ledges  (»f  the  rocks,  and  seemingly  no  larger  than  the  hand, 
reveal  to  us  at  once  the  hard  and  laborious  life  of  the  inhabitants 
and  the  meager  return  of  their  toil.  Here  nnd  there  grow  some 
scanty  stalks  of  barley,  oats,  or  maize,  but  the  olive  is  the  prin- 
cipal object  of  culture,  and  the  eye  becomes  weary  of  resting 
upon  its  somber  foliage. 

Two  convents  of  sleek  monks  contribute,  by  their  prayers,  to 
th<.'  prosperity  of  Sonnino.  One  of  these  monasteries  is  situated 
half  a  mile  from  the  city ;  the  other  is  located  directly  in  front 
of  the  lower  gate,  as  if  for  the  collection  of  town  imposts.  At 
the  latter  we  were  obliged  to  bring  up,  there  being  no  other 
shelliT  for  us.  These  excellent  personages  soil  hospitality  to 
horst^s  and  carriages,  and  charge  all  the  more  from  the  fact  that 
no  wheeled  vehicle  can  enter  the  town.  The  main  artery  of 
Soiuiino.  traversing  the  town  through  its  greater  diameter,  the 
inhabitants,  in  their  simplicity,  have  named  the  Middle  Street.  It 
tcrmiuato  at  each  end  by  gates,  tlie  upper  bearing  the  appella- 
tion of  St.  Peter,  the  lower  tliat  of  St.  John.  To  tell  the  tiiitli, 
this  so-called  stveet  is  nothing  but  a  series  of  slippery  steps 
flanked  on  either  side  by  crooke<l  rows  of  black,  ill-built  houses 
of  unequal  height.  From  it  diverge  gloomy  alley-ways,  which 
resemble  nothing  so  nuich  as  our  railway  tunnels.  The  great 
distinction  between  this  magnificent  street  and  the  others  is, 
that  three  men  can  walk  abr^^ast  in  it;  the  otliers  accommodate 
but  two.     At  intervals  ujion  the  right,  you  suddenly  come  upon 


AN   EXCURSION   SOUTH. 


211 


/ 


frightful  precipices,  with  the  plain  below  in  full  view.     Such  are 
the  adjacent  streets. 

Our  coming  had  been  announced;  the  brigand's  widow  had 
secured  us  a  lodging  at  the  house  of  one  of  her  relatives,  formerly 
a  brigadier  in  the  gend'armery,  but  now  a  well-to-do  bourgeois 
of  Sonnino.  He  met  us  at  the  lower  gate,  and  cordially  wel- 
comed us.  He  was  a  corpulent  man,  with  an  open  couutenauce, 
ill  fine  health,  but  almost  destitute  of  teeth,  which  rendered  his 
conversation  difficult  to  understand.  He  conducted  us  to  his 
domicil,  and  placed  his  household  at  our  disposition. 

It  would  be  a  difficult  matter  to  describe  tlie  plan  of  his  house. 
The  entrance  is  upon  Middle  Street,  but  the  first  story  forms  a 
curious  elbow,  and  through  its  passages  you  penetrate  to  another 
quarter.  Traversing  a  corridor  and  stairway,  we  find  ourselves 
in  a  smoky  kitchen,  where  we  are  received  by  the  hostess  and  hei 
only  daughter,  a  fine  brunette  of  fifteen.  The  usual  compliments 
exchanged,  we  ascend  a  dozen  steps  and  enter  the  dining-room. 
After  crossing  a  roof,  mounting  another  stairway,  and  traversing 
an  entry  way,  I  reach  my  bedroom,  and  while  removing  the  traces 
of  the  journey,  can  not  help  asking  myself  how  it  is  possible  for 
twenty-five  hundred  people  to  move  about  in  a  village  so  con- 
stnicted  without  losing  themselves. 

It  was  not  long  before  my  excellent  guide  sent  for  me  in  order 
to  introduce  his  old  model.  She  was  a  large,  stout  woman,  from 
fifty  to  sixty,  lame  and  almost  blind,  but  full  of  health.  She 
spoke  rapidly,  in  a  very  masculine  and  surly  tone.  Still,  on  tlie 
whole  she  received  me  well.  The  arrival  of  her  old  benefactor 
and  master  (perhaps  he  had  occupied  other  relations)  gave  her 
evident  satisfaction ;  but  there  was  nothing  enthusiastic  or  strik* 
ing  in  the  exhibition  of  her  joy.  An  observing  eye  could  easily 
recofmize  in  her  manner  that  impassability  common  to  the  peas- 
antry, which  is  the  natural  result  of  labor  and  suffering.  Her 
dress  was  altogether  modern,  resembling  that  of  the  country 
people  of  Bievre  or  Montreuil ;  it  was  plain  to  see  that  she  pre- 
ferred the  calicos  of  India,  or  the  silks  of  Lyons  to  the  beautiful 
tissues  of  dark  wool  such  as  she  had  worn  in  her  youth. 

"  I  really  hope,"  said  she,  "  that  you  have  brought  your  Sun- 
day garments." 

My  reply  disconcerted  her. 

'*  It  will  never  be  believed  that  you  arc  of  noble  rank ;  to- 


. '    ■■'C     *kV*** 


212 


ROME    OF  TO-DAY. 


morrow  will  be  the  feast  of  St.  Anthony,  the  patron  of  Sonnino. 
There  is  to  be  a  procession,  a  horse-race,  and  fireworks ;  our  own 
band  is  to  perform  from  morning  until  eveninj^,  for  we  have  a 
band  composed  of  the  first  younpr  men  of  the  district;  thejhavo 
learned  tlie  music  and  bought  the  instnunenls.  What  a  pity 
that  you  did  not  bring  your  <lark  clothes." 

I  excused  myself  in  the  best  way  I  could,  as  I  had  the  strong- 
est  reasons  for  keeping  in  her  good  graces ;  I  managed  mattera 
so  that  she  promised  me  the  history  of  her  life  upon  the  follow- 
ing day. 

"But  to  what  end?"  said  she,  in  her  old  surly  tone  ;  'I  have 
lived  like  the  others,  and  nothing  extraordinary  has  happened  to 
me ;  ever}^body  lodged  at  the  same  inn  in  my  time." 

Supper  being  served,  :Maria  Grazia  refused  to  partake  with  us. 
She  finally  consented  to  join  in  a  glass  of  Avine,  and  ended  by 
drinkinc:  several. 

'•  This  does  me  good,"  she  said,  '*  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  have 
ha«l  anything  like  it;  this  supper  is  too  extravagant." 

Our  host  removed  the  servants'  plates  as  soon  us  he  was  in- 
formed that  we  were  not  in  the  habit  of  eating  with  tliem.  Ue 
introduced  us  to  his  future  son-in-law,  a  young  engineer,  who 
liad  tlie  air  of  a  college  student.  I  am  astonished  that  mere  chil- 
dren should  be  allowed  to  marry  only  to  beget  their  like.  The 
answer  is:  "Such  is  the  custom."  At  Sezza,  in  the  unhealthy 
district,  girls  marry  still  younger,  and  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find 
young  won)en  of  fifteen  years  living  with  their  third  husband. 
The  air  of  the  :Marshes  is  so  fatiil  to  husbands ! 

Our  repast  was  good  and  abundant;  we  had  nothing  to  com- 
tlain  of  but  the  excessive  poHteness  of  the  host.  In  these  moun- 
t^ims  the  inen  serve  themselves  before  the  women,  it;  indeed 
the  latter  dare  eat  in  the  presence  of  thi'ir  husbands.  But  custom 
exacts  a  great  many  compliments.  *^  Goo«l  appetite  to  you ! 
Thank  you!  You  are  my  masti'r !  Make  vourself  at  home  I 
Do  me  the  favor!  Koally,  it  is  too  much!*  You  overwhelm 
me !  I  hardly  know  how  to  be  sufi^iciently  gratc-ful !  By  your 
leave!  May  this  repast  repay  you!  Alirnv'^nie  to  reheve  you 
of  my  presence!  Adieu!  Good  evening!  Good  night! 
Pleasant  dreams  I  May  the  Virgin  watch  over  you!"  Do  not 
forget  that  upon  entering  the  landlord  told  you  that  you  sliould 
be  well  served  witliout  compliments  or  ceremony. 


AX   EXCURSIOX   SOUTH. 


213 


f 


I  slept  as  a  traveler  only  can  sleep.  On  leaving  my  room  the 
following  morning,  I  met  the  yoimg  engineer,  who  obligingly 
offt^red  to  show  mo  the  town  an«l  the  fair.  I  could  not  in  polite- 
ness refuse  the  ofTor.  On  the  road  I  sounded  him  a  little.  He 
had  studied  at  Rome,  where  he  attended  the  course  of  the  Sa- 
pienza.  While  pursuing  his  mathematics,  he  had  found  time  to 
read  Voltaire  and  Rousseau ;  for  he  could  rea.l  French,  although 
he  did  not  speak  it.  Rousseau  was  his  idol.  lie  had  often 
secretly  discussed  his  theories  with  his  companions.  His  opinion 
of  the  pontifical  government  is  the  same  as  that  of  all  the  middle 
class ;  he  hoped  to  live  long  enough  to  see  it  overthrown.  Mean- 
while he  was  endeavoring  to  obtain  a  place  in  the  department 
of  public  works. 

The  fair  was  held  at  the  extremities  of  the  main  street.  I 
counted  in  all  a  dozen  poorly-fiirnished  booths.  The  first  glance 
was  sufficient  to  estabUsh  the  fact  that  Sonnino  is  not  a  center 
of  commerce.  A  few  pieces  of  linen,  some  cotton  and  silk  hand- 
kerchief-J,  a  small  assortment  of  iron  and  earthenware,  chaplets 
and  cherries  in  abundance,  complete  the  inventory  of  articles 
which  I  made  upon  the  spot.  Add  to  this  a  collection  of  stories 
at  a  cent  a-pieee,  and  cdiiying  religious  ballads,  and  a  load  of  the 
thinnest  possible  boards,  which  the  vender,  at  a  moment's  notice, 
manufactured  into  chairs,  trunks,  couches,  and  even  bedsteads. 

The  streets  began  to  fill  with  people.  The  men  were  tall,  thin, 
and  sun-burnt;  the  females  small-featured  and  delicate.  The 
national  costume,  which  is  severe  and  at  the  same  time  diversi- 
fied in  color,  was  occasionally  visible ;  but  the  modern  silk  fab- 
rics, which  must  finally  displace  all  others,  have  already  destroyed 
tlie  toilets  of  tlie  women.  Both  men  and  women  bore  flowers 
in  their  hands,  in  the  mouth,  or  in  the'ir  head-dresses. 

The  crowd  ascended  and  descended  the  wet  stairs  without 
slipping.  From  time  to  time  they  glued  themselves  against  the 
walls  tt)  make  way  for  a  mule,  an  ass,  or  a  small  drove  of  black 
animals:  I  have  already  given  the  meaning  of  this  euphonism. 

At  one  ])oint  Middle  Street  widens  so  as  to  form  a  place,  or 
square.  I  asked  the  young  engineer,  whether  the  rack  was 
not  located  here,  under  the  pontificate  of  Leo  XII.  He 
replied  that  he  knew  nothing  about  it,  and  suddenly  changed  the 

subject 

He  pointed  out  the  government  palace,  a  regular  barn,  where 


^■ji"«^*t<iiiMn(>!WM 


214 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


presHles  a  judge-gover„nr  ,vnth  a  salary  of  one  hundred  and 

I  reco-^ized  Saint  Peter's  .rate,  from  llie  description,  I  Ind 
prevousy  read.     Here  were  forn.nrly  .suspended  i ,  ,ro ,  e^.^ 

He  had  never  hearj'of  :,:e-oet It"  "''''"'''  "''''''  "--• 
He  conducted  me,  liowever,  to  an  immense  buildin.^  flanked 
by  a  tower  m  ruins.     A  porter,  or  steward,  who     vL~i7n  the 
ower  part,  led  ns  through  several  half-empt'y  room    me  i 
furmshed  w,th  straw  chairs  and  bedsteads  of  ^Vlntc-wood      fS 
or  s,x  beauffully  .ilded  pieces  of  furniture,  in  thet^rst./,' " 
neglected  m  tUo  garret.     Jlere  an,l  there  were  to  be  seen  vul'^r 
mages  f.gures  o    Christ  in  colored  wax,  and  rustic  hi"   5: 
In  a  kmd  of  parlor,  a  little  wooden  Saint  Peter  stood  ,^ 
regarding  four  indecent  plaster  statuettes     0  c \   "s      Si 
lacmg  her  corset,  another  tying  her  garter,  and  a  thi  d  411 
her  hnen  for  mseets.     In  this  house  was  born  one  oC    he  S 

~dli.  °'''"'  -^'P'-^'-ts-his  Eminence  Cardinal 

We  were  not  allowed  to  depart  without  entering  the  nrincinal 
room  of  the  e.^Ublishmeut.     In  this  apartn.ent  ar^eollee^eS    m 

The  Antonelh  family  purchase  the  oil  in  small  lots  from  th^ 
Sitf  .llr^^S-'  -'  ---  °^  '^  -  -«  to  Z 

1 ,.  t^  .       .      "  iii^ni  nia.-s  wa.s   nerrormed   n 

stZl  """"^■'  '"  ""-  '^°'"-^"'  ^^■'-•-  - ' '----« 

We  arrived  shortly  before  the  com.nencen.ent  of  the  eeremonv 

feet  n;  VTT  r  "'"'"'''  '""'''"  "'"'^  '^'^-<-  '»"- 
teet  of  the  Sa:nt.     Each  one  gave  what  he  had,  and  ked  for 

What  he  wanted  at  the  top  of  his  voice.     A  mother,  holing  up 


AN  EXCURSION   SOUTH. 


215 


her  sick  child  before  Saint  Anthony,  exclaimed,  "  Cure  liim,  or 

txike  him !" 

The  mM?s  was  very  lonof.  When  it  was  ended  the  procession 
beo-an.  Almost  all  the  male  inhabitants  of  Sonnino  are  enrolled 
in  some  brothorh.ood,  whose  frock  and  cowl  they  assiune.  The 
brotherhood  of  the  Souls  of  Purgatory  is  tlie  most  aristocratic ; 
that  is  to  say,  jt  is  made  up  of  peasants  of  the  better  class.  The 
brotherhoods  of  the  Body  of  Jesus  and  of  the  Name  of  Mary 
arc  its  bitter  rivals.  On  this  occasion  a  dispute  as  to  precedence 
arose,  and  in  an  instant  staves  were  flourished  in  defiance.  How- 
ever, the  parties  confined  themselves  to  the  exchange  of  oppro- 
brious epithets,  order  was  restored,  and  a  long  cortege,  bristling 
with  crosses  and  banners,  wound  through  the  streets.  The  pro- 
cession was  terminated  by  a  calf,  decorated  with  ribbons,  a 
somewhat  heathenish  olTering  made  by  a  wealthy  individual  to 
St.  Anthony.  The  donor  himself  led  the  animal,  one  hand 
holding  him  by  the  head,  the  other  by  the  tail. 

There  were  frequent  interruptions  in  the  line.  Sometimes  a 
banner  could  not  pass  under  an  arch ;  sometimes  a  child  Avas  to 
be  picked  up  ;  sometimes  tlie  image  of  the  Saint  required  a  fresh 
relay  of  porters,  and  sometimes  the  calf  stubbornly  refused  to 
budo-e.  At  each  station  some  one  cried  out  Ave  Maria,  which, 
in  processional  language,  means  Halt  I 

The  few  inhabitants  who  remained  at  home  showered  down 
broom  flowers  and  leafless  carnation  from  the  windows. 

Wc  had  nm  on  in  advance  of  tlie  procession,  and  posted  our- 
selves in  a  convenient  location.  I  there  made  the  acquaintance 
of  the  communal  physician,  who  introduced  himself  without 
ceremony.  The  communal  physician  is  a  person  of  great  im- 
portance in  these  small  towns.  He  has  studied  at  Rome,  and 
obtained  his  situation  i)t  the  annual  public  examination,  when 
the  students  compete  for  the  first  rank.  The  commune  pays 
him  a  fixed  salary,  lor  which  he  agrees  to  treat  both  rich  and 
poor  gratis.  This  arrangement  is  in  keeping  with  the  municipal 
spirit  of  Italy.     It  deserves  to  be  introduced  among  us. 

My  new  acquaintance  informed  me  that  he  received  sixteen 
hundred  and  five  francs  per  annum,  and  that  his  colleague,  tho 
surgeon,  was  equally  well  paid.  This  is  more  than  enough  in  a 
country  where  a  decent  house  may  be  liired  for  sixty  francs  a 
year,  and  a  person  may  live  upon  ten  cents  a  day.     I  learned 


BtjJT^ 


21G 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


from  h,m  that  the  mumcpality  of  Sonnino  is  rich,  thanks  to  tho 
extent  of  >ts  comrnnnal  .iomain.  It  ha.  saved  np  ninety  thonsand 
^anc.,  which  wUJ  be  devoted  to  the  restoration  of  L  povor^- 
ment  palace  and  ropairin,^  the  roads.  The  people  are  temperate 
and  mdusf.,o„..  Kael>  „,an  owns  a  smaU  pitcil  of  .round  ■  t".y 
are  poor,  but  a  pauper  is  not  to  be  found  amons  then,.     The 

pla  nt  ,s  acute  <?a.str,t.s,  caused,  as  is  supposed,  by  the  use  of 
Inchan  mea  .  PubHc  instruction  is  at  a  low  ebb.  ^nt  one  out 
of  A,r.y  adults  can  read  and  write.  Forty  male  children  are  to 
be  found  m  the  schools;  females  are  more  numerous,  for  the 
reason  that  they  are  of  less  service  in  field  labor.  The  ;um  total 
of  the  population  is  two  thousand  five  hundred  and  Cl>y-,.i<.hL 
of  which  number  thirty  are  ecclesiastics  ^     "  ^ 

"  That  is  very  well,"  I  said  to  the  doc'tor.     "  But  tell  me  some- 
thing about  the  brigand.s." 

He  cast  his  eyeron  me,  then  on  my  neighbor,  the  engineer, 

smile,  full  of  meaning,  and  more  instructive  than  a  long  speech, 
the,;  dL     .T  ^'  P'"^""'"'  "  '*■  brig.'^ndage  is  still  practiced  in 
tSstLl  Ye.s  "nluekily  I     Our  peasants  would  scruple 

toe  the  theft  of  fruit,  gram,  or  forage.     As  for  stabbing,  it  is 
neither  more  rare  nor  more  common  here  than  elsewhere.     It 

tZ   ,^  ^'fy  "'!.  "'"  ^'"'^S''-     ^^'I'^n  wine  is  dear  there  are 

lewer  throats  cut. ' 

This  was  not  exactly  what  I  asked  him,  but  I  took  care  not  to 
repeat  my  question.  The  young  engineer  doubtless  counted 
among  his  ancestors  some  of  the  heroes  hung  up  at  the  gate  of 
St.  Petjen  and  I  had  been  too  indiscreet  alrea.ly  in  speakin-^  of 
brigandage  before  him.  " 

At  length  the  procession  passed  by.  The  loiterers  increased 
their  speed  ;  the  poor  calf,  overcome  with  fatigue,  had  to  be  car- 
red  at  last.  ^Ve  returned  to  the  house,  where  dinner  awaited 
us.  Our  host  told  us  that  a  sick  woman  had  given  u,.  the  ghost 
just  at  the  moment  when  St.  Anthony  was  pa.,siug  in  front  of 
her  house.  The  relations  of  the  deceased  comforted  themselves 
by  saying  that  the  Saint  had  Uken  her  with  him 

The  people  of  Sonnino  have   a  promenade  of  which  they 
arc  justly  proud.     It  is  a  road  a  mile  long,  constructc^d  with 


^A2^iS^'dt,*«mmkt-i' 


AX   EXCUBSION   SOUTH. 


217 


• 


much  labor,  on  the  top  of  the  mountaiu.  It  begins  at  St.  Peter's 
gate,  and  ends  at  a  clump  of  evergreens.  The  ground  is  smooth 
enough  for  you  to  ride  in  a  carriage;  unluckil}',  carriages  can 
not  get  up  so  high.  They  have  horse-races  there  on  fete  days, 
when  by  tlie  permission  of  Providence  there  are  any  horses  in 
the  town. 

The  race  was  fixed  for  twenty-two  o'clock ;  that  is  to  say,  it 
was  to  becrin  two  hours  before  sunset.  While  waitino:  for  this 
spectacle,  I  went  all  alone  to  the  little  wood  of  evergreens.  The 
cows  had  left  there  large  traces  of  their  presence.  Still  I  settled 
myself  as  well  as  I  could  on  a  stump,  and  began  to  note  down 
with  my  pencil  what  I  had  seen  and  heard  since  the  day  before. 
All  at  once  the  sky  grew  dark.  It  was  a  passing  storm,  coming 
from  the  mountains  of  Naples.  The  light  diminished  abruptly ; 
the  valley  was  dipped  in  the  most  fantastic  hues.  Thunderclaps 
came  nearer  in  quick  succession.  Soon  I  thought  I  heard  the 
thunder  directly  over  my  head.  I  could  not  reach  the  village 
without  being  exposed  for  u  mile  to  a  heavy  rain,  and  I  was  very 
lightly  clad.  Accordingly,  I  determined  to  stay  where  I  was 
until  the  storm  was  over.  Ileaven  sent  me  plenty  of  company. 
Eight  or  ten  herdsmen — oxherds,  keepers  of  buffaloes,  goats, 
and  sheep — came  to  shelter  round  me.  They  were  wet  to  the 
bone,  but  none  of  them  had  thought  of  putting  on  his  jacket. 
They  wore  it  negligently  on  the  left  shoulder,  after  the  coquet- 
tish fashion  of  the  country.  I  offered  them  cigars,  which  they 
eagerly  accepted,  and  cut  up  to  put  them  in  their  wooden  pipes, 
decorated  with  copper-headed  nails.  A  young  man,  in  return 
for  my  politeness,  gave  me  some  green  apples,  which  might  have 
been  rii)e  by  the  end  of  August.  lie  then  produced  a  red  cotton 
handkerchief,  filled  witli  wliite-heart  cherries,  which  was  con- 
cealed under  his  jacket,  f  accepted  two  or  three  with  discre- 
tion, but  he  insisted  like  a  hau<lsome  friend.  "  Don't  be  afraid," 
he  said,  "  to  share  my  cherries.  I  did  not  pay  for  them ;  they 
belong  to  me  by  the  right  of  taking  them.  If  you  won't  help 
yourself,  I'll  help  you." 

lie  filled  me  with  them  at  first,  and  then  overwhelmed  me 
witli  thenii  he  treated  me  as  Augustus  might  have  treated 
Cinna;  and  when  he  plainly  saw  that  I  was  above  the  ears  in 
tliem,  he  distributed  the  rest  among  his  comi>anions. 

Finding  myself  in  the  midst  of  these  honest  fellows,  of  v;hum 

10 


iSu... 


•&47. _ 


218 


EOME   OF  TO-DAT. 


some  ^-ere  barely  entering  on  life,  while  others  had  passed  three- 

andage.  Only  one  had  been  a  brigand  ;  he  counted  some  yel'k 
of  servce  m  the  band  of  the  famous  Gasperone,  whom  1  w 
afterward  at  the  hulks  of  Civita  Castellana.  He  Tmembered 
^.e  tme  very  distinctly  when  the  whipping-post  and  mv  h  do 

heads  and  Ind        ^•^";T^"'"°  "''"^"-l  ^^ith  eighteen  human 
heads,  and  had  personally  known  some  half  dozen  of  them      He 

wen   0^-    hem"  r   !"'  Tf^' «o-inst  the  ground.'  The  g  n 
went  off,  the  man  d,ed  and  the  governor  hung  up  his  head  with 
tho  others,  very  unfairly,  as  da  Santis  had  never  been  taken 
My  nanator  was  with  Gasperone  when  he  went  to  take  down 

o  ,,ive  It  bunal.     Ho  remembered  some  other  expeditions  h„t 

spit:;tre  r"r"' '"  "^" » -^^"p^"'--  '^^Z'Z 

spite  of  the  closest  attention,  I  could  not  always  foli;w  hm 

S  dtTto2r;°r'^  ''"'"'' '''^  ^'^  resisLcewl-cJ     • 
liacl  dared  to  make  to  Gasperone.     The  great  captain  had  sent 

«.  '  °"  ""'''  ""  "  '"""'^°  ^^•'-"  --  "^-e'y  to  be 

wile  f;::^r^Lt.:ti,a;'or?r ''%'-''' '"" "  ^'- 
n^p^  f T'  -' ""  -  ^  "da;!-:;  i^/izr 
;o:':;srk'„f  -  r.-t  ^^wS-  t;- t  iti-i - 

was  not  right.     The  man  whom  Gasperone  s„t  in  lyi 
escaped,  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  from  Hvi  or  si.x  musket  Wis  " 

he  S  hoTestlv    H     :.      '•■'^f  ~"'"^       '°  f'^^^'""''-'  "'-'"  that 
nt  was  honestly  attending  to  his  business.     For  the  rest  lie  hA.l 

ol  bTtTeh^Tf  by  profession;  his  oecupat^n  ^^s  \e  p 
:^  Sht:  t^:^^'  '-  -'•  -  -="  -  •'"•gandage  wa^ 
Not  that  severe  examples  had  been  wantin-  ( ,  Imn  n„  1  i 
been  present  in  his  youth  at  the  execution  of  ^w  ntyle  fan^^ 
of  he  mountams,  taken  and  shot  by  the  French  Th!ir  «fl 
bad  been  settled  exactly  at  the  entiLce  to  thtlittl  wood 'L^ 


AX    EXCUESIOX    SOUTH. 


219 


which  we  wero  detained  by  tli?  rain  ;  their  bodies  were  thrown 
into  a  deep  and  gloomy  cavern,  three  miles  from  Sonnino. 

I  asked  him  to  what  causes  he  attributed  the  extinction  of 
briprnnda^^e. 

"  The  rea.son  is,"  he  replied,  "  that  the  biisiness  became  impos- 
sible under  Pope  Leo  XII.  Almost  as  soon  as  a  man  was  taken 
they  cut  off  his  head.  Yo!i  had  not  even  time  to  escape  from 
prison.     That  is  how  the  fashion  died  out." 

He  spoke  of  that  bloody  period  with  the  utmost  cnlmnesg  in 
the  world,  without  remorse,  without  pride,  without  rancor, 
putting  gensd'armes  and  brigands,  crime  "and  law  on  the  same 
footing,  as  a  man,  watching  a  game  of  chess,  regards  tlie  whites 
and  the  blanks,  or  as  Macchiavelli  regards  the  strife  between 
good  and  evil. 

His  companions  listened  to  him  with  the  same  Italian  impar- 
tiality. 

I  wished  to  learn  whether  he  did  not  regret  his  former  diver- 
sions. 

"You  are  an  ox-herd,"  I  said,  "and  you  earn  little:  you 
eat  corn  bread,  and  you  don't  drink  wine  every  Sunday.  Don't 
you  sometimes  regret  the  time  whon  you  had  only  to  take 
them  ?" 

"It  is  true,"  he  answered,  "  I  have  had  some  good  times,  but 
I  have  met  with  some  very  bad  ones ;  we  were  not  always  mas- 
ters, and  sometimes,  instead  of  pursuing,  we  fled.  However, 
there  is  no  choico,  for  brigandage  is  not  in  now  fashion." 

The  conversation  had  reached  this  point,  when  I  reflected  that 
my  new  friends  would  have  had  an  easy  bargain  of  me,  if  they 
had  cultivated  the  picturesque  like  their  fathers.  I  brought 
out  this  idea  before  them,  ir.  order  still  better  to  learn  their 
thoughts. 

"  Aly  good  fellows,"  I  said,  "  if  you  were  like  the  old  inhabi- 
tants of  Sonnino,  you  would  long  ago  have  rifled  my  pockets; 
you  are  ton  again.st  one,  a  good  mile  from  the  village.  You  may 
suppo.-e  that  a  stranger  who  comes  as  far  as  this  place  has  a  few 
crowns  in  his  purse ;  you  see  that  I  am  unarmed,  and  there  is 
not  one  among  you  Avho  has  not,  beside  his  stick,  a  good  sharp 
knife ;  if  I  cried  out,  my  cries  would  not  be  heard ;  if  I  made  a 
complaint,  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  give  your  names,  as 
I  do  not  know  them.     Wliy  don't  you  strip  me  a  little?" 


.;  -^■y-^y^  :^J\:,f 


220 


ROME  OF  TO-DAY. 


The  old  soldier  of  Gasperone  was  not  offended  at  my  questions. 
He  replied,  with  simplicity: 

'•"VVe  would  not  do  such  a  thing,  because  we  are  honest 
people."  ^ 

'•Then  you  were  not  an  lionest  man  when  you  ran^^ed  the 
raountaiiis  with  Gasperone?" 

"  Ye?,  I  was  an  honest  man.  but  I  did  as  everybody  did.  It 
was  the  habit,  in  those  times ;  and,  even  in  those  times,  if  you 
had  sat  by  me,  if  you  had  given  me  cigars,  if  you  had  eaten  off 
the  same  stone  with  me,  I  should  not  have  tfiken  a  penny  from 
you ;  still,  if  you  had  money  in  your  pockets,  and  had  given  me 
a  little  portrait  of  the  pope,  I  should  have  taken  it  to  drink  vour 
healdi." 

The  storm  had  gone  its  way,  the  sun  came  out  again,  the  time 
for  the  races  was  approaching ;  already  we  saw  tliree  Jiorses  leave 
the  village,  and  approach,  at  a  walk,  the  open  wood,  whore 
they  were  to  await  the  signal  for  the  start.  While  my  compan- 
ions judged  the  runners  in  the  distance,  and  bet  on  the  bay, 
the  sorrel,  or  the  white,  I  saw,  far  off,  very  fur  off,  a  little  com- 
pany of  tenor  twelve  people  descend  from  Sonnino  by  St.  Peter's 
gate  and  walk  slowly  toward  the  church  of  St.  Antliony. 

"What  is  that?"  I  a.sked  the  old  ox-herd;  '*one  would  say 
they  were  carrying  something." 

"  It  is  so,"  he  answered ;  "  they  are  carrying  to  the  grave  a 
woman  who  died  to-day,  during  tlie  procession." 

"Impossible!" 

"  Why  so  ?" 

"  Surely  the  law  does  not  allow  them  to  bury  people  four  hours 
after  death?" 

"Bah!  it  may  be  forbidden,  but  so  much  the  woi-se.  We 
have  no  time  to  lose  here,  and  when  people  are  dead,  we  bury 
them." 

The  dead  woman,  hardly  yet  cold,  entered  the  church  at  the 
moment  when  the  tlu-ee  horses  reached  us.  I  am  not  very 
skillful  in  such  matters,  and  I  never  wore  a  rosette  of  green  card 
board  at  my  button-hole,  but  it  was  easy  for  me  to  predict  that 
the  race  would  be  a  poor  one.  The  three  jades  that  were  en- 
tered wa^rc  to  nui  without  jockeys,  for  a  purse  of  ten  crowns. 
The  whip  and  spur  were  replaced  by  a  few  balls  of  lead  armed 
with  spikes,  to  tickle  their  flanks.     A  score  of  urchins  pursued 


AN   EXCUKSION    SOUTH. 


221 


I 


them  with  loud  cries,  pelting  them  with  stones ;  it  was  not  a 
start,  but  someth  ng  like  a  launch.  Half  way  of  the  course,  the 
poor  animals,  feeling  themselves  no  longer  pursued,  began  to 
walk ;  in  vain  their  owners  ran  toward  them,  to  recall  them  to 
duty;  in  vain  the  crowd  stimulated  their  pride  by  all  the  projec- 
tiles that  were  handy ;  the  race  was  finished  at  a  gentle  trot,  and 
the  three  beasts  reached  the  goal  lamely  enough. 

I  reached  it  almost  at  the  same  time,  although  no  stones  had 
been  thrown  at  me,  and  I  saw  a  pretty  curious  sight.  The  local 
autliorities  refused  to  adjudge  the  prize,  alleging  that  coi^so,  a 
race,  came  from  corsere,  to  run,  and  that  the  horses  had  not  run. 
The  owner  of  the  winner  was  tolerably  calm ;  he  obstinately 
repeated,  "  I  have  won  the  race ;  give  me  ten  crowns  ;"  but  the 
turfites  who  had  bet  on  him  were  less  peaceable.  They  accused 
tlie  people  of  Sonnino,  cried  thief,  and  recalled,  by  pretty  sharp 
allusions,  the  old  reputation  of  the  country.  Things  might  have 
gone  far,  in  spite  of  the  interference  of  the  gend'armes,  if  wine  had 
been  cheaper. 

Music  continued  to  go  through  the  stxeets,  and  did  not  stop 
until  evening ;  it  had  saluted  the  dawn,  announced  the  mass,  ac- 
companied the  church  singing,  followed  the  procession,  opened 
and  closed  the  races ;  it  conducted  the  people  to  the  fireworks, 
and  was  only  extinguished  with  the  last  cracker.  It  was  the 
first  time  tliat  tlie  young  men  of  Sonnino  had  given  a  public  con- 
cert, their  ardor  was  quite  young,  and  their  fanaticism  fire-new ; 
that  was  easy  to  see. 

The  fete  over,  some  hundreds  of  torches  were  lighted,  and 
every  one  returned  home.  Maria  Grazia  liad  not  retired  ;  she 
w.as  waitin;;^  for  me. 

"  Here  I  am,"  she  said,  on  seeing  me  come  in.  "  You  see  I 
keep  my  wonl ;  I  am  very  willing  to  tell  you  my  story,  although 
there  is  nothinij^  surprising  in  it,  but  what  is  the  use  ?  What 
will  you  do  with  it?  what  good  will  it  do  you  to  know  it?" 

"Maria  Grazin,"  I  answered,  "  when  I  know  your  story,  I  will 
tell  it  in  a  book ;  the  people  in  my  country  have  already  scea 
your  portrait,  now  they  shall  know  your  name." 

A  smile  of  pride  illuminated  her  old  face.  She  sat  down  near 
me,  on  my  traveling  bag,  and  repeated  to  me  in  a  low  voice,  the 
following  story : 

"I  was  born  at  S<»nnino.  m  the  time  of  the  brigands.     I  must 


.'^    -■4tiah.rtil%«iTiiai'SWiiil'll1lllMftBlll'fll  IJJ&flbJtMM&lAJI 


222 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


be  abcut  fifty  years  old ;  you  should  ask  the  cur^.    At  fifteen  I 
mari-ied  my  first  husband.     He  was  a  fine  fellow,  an  ox-herd  by 
occupation.     Besides,  he  had  a  little  property;  we  had  one  boy, 
who  died  in  course  of  time ;  my  husband  had  some  discussion 
about  robbery  with  our  boy's  godfather;  I  don't  recollect  whether 
It  was  grain  or  olives  he  had  taken  from  us,  but  it  was  little 
enough.     At  all  events,  it  would  have  been  best  to  forgive  him, 
but  my  husband  complained  of  him  to  the  governor,  and  had  him 
put  in  prison  for  a  month.     The  other  threatened  vengeance.     I 
thought  he  would   do  nothing,  as  he  was  our  crony,  and  had 
always  shown  us  friendliness ;  still  my  husband  thought  it  best 
to  move  from  the  neighborhood,  and  he  went  to  keep  oxen  near 
Rome.     But  the  other  went  there  too,  in  the  followim?  year, 
and  finding  my  husband  a.sleep  in  the  field,  killed  him  with  his 
knife. 

"  About  that  time  I  mnde  the  acquaintance  of  my  second  hus- 
band. He  was  born  in  the  kingdom  (of  Naples),  but  he  lived  at 
Terracina,  and  it  was  there  he  took  me.     He  worked  at  farming. 

"  I  had  not  been  long  married  again  when  my  sister  sent  to 
ask  me  about  her  marrying  the  man  who  had  killed  mv  first  hus- 
band. He  was  courting  her,  and  she  liked  him.  I  told  her  to 
do  OS  she  pleased  ;  that  my  first  husband  was  dead  ;  that  I  was 
not  a  saint,  to  bring  him  to  life  again ;  and  that  the  best  thing 
was  to  thiuk  no  more  of  it.  Accordingly,  she  married  the  other^ 
who  was  not  a  bad  fellow,  as  I  told  yon,  and  had  a  good  deal  of 
friendship  for  us. 

"  I  had  had  two  children  by  my  second  husband,  and  was  liv- 
ing happily  in  his  company,  when  a  great  vexation  happened  to 
him.  He  demanded  two  or  three  crowns  from  a  man  for  whom 
he  had  worked.  His  debtor  refused  to  pay,  because  he  was  rich 
and  knew  the  judge.  Then  my  husband,  not  being  able  to  ob- 
tain other  satisfliction,  killed  him.  The  poor  man,'  after  this  im- 
prudence, couM  do  nothing  but  turn  brigand  and  roam  the  moun- 
tain. He  came  into  the  neighborhood  of  Sonnino,  and  joined 
tlie  rest.  As  for  mo,  I  returnetl  to  my  parents,  and  often  had 
news  of  him.  Sometimes  he  would  come  to  see  me  in  secret  • 
sometimes  he  would  send  me  presents. 

"  But  Pope  Leo,  who  had  resolved  to  make  an  end  of  brigand-, 
age,  ordered  the  wives  and  children  of  all  those  who  kept  to  the 
mountain  to  be  brought  to  Rome  by  force.     I  was  put  in  the 


AN    EXCURSION   SOUTH. 


223 


Thermae,  with  many  other  women  from  our  part.  I  found  there 
my  sister,  whose  husband  too  was  on  the  mountain  ;  and  more 
than  half  the  families  of  Sonnino.  The  pope  was  in  such  a  rage, 
that  he  talked  of  razing  the  village.  Cannon  had  been  brouifht 
up  to  the  mountains  that  commdnd  it ;  and  you  would  no  longer 
see  stone  upon  stone,  if  Cardinal  Gonsalvi  had  not  interceded  for 
us. 

"  While  we  were  at  the  Thermno,  the  gentlemen  and  artists 
used  to  come  tliere  every  day ;  the  former  to  sec  us,  the  others 
to  draw  from  tis.  It  was  there  that  I  began  to  sit  for  M.  Schnetz, 
and  my  sister  for  ^l.  (Leopold)  Robert  It  is  my  sister  that  is 
playing  the  tambourine  in  the  picture  of  the  Madonna  of  the 
Arch.  I  have  sat  thousands  and  thousands  of  times  in  my  cos- 
tume, and  I  have  been  tolil  t'.iat  my  portrait  was  in  churches  and 
palaces  in  your  country.  We  were  treated  kindly  ;  we  were  al- 
lowed to  go  to  tiie  studios,  and  even  to  become  housekeepers  to 
respectable  persons. 

'*  But  njy  husband,  wlio  was  a  worthy  man,  as  I  have  told 
you,  and  loved  me  gi-eatly,  learned  that  I  had  been  arrested  ;  and 
supposing  that  I  was  unhappy  in  prison,  went  and  gave  himself 
up  in  order  to  obtain  freedom  for  me  and  the  children.  The 
Holy  Father  had  promised  their  lives  and  but  a  short  imprison- 
ment to  tliose  who  should  voluntarily  place  themselves  in  the 
hands  of  the  liishop  of  their  province.  But  my  poor  man,  through 
ignorance,  made  a  mistake  ;  instead  of  giving  himself  up  to  the 
Bishop  of  Piperno,  who  was  our  bishop,  he  went  and  yielded 
himself  as  a  prisoner  at  Terracina.  And  so  he  lost  the  benefit 
of  the  law.  They  said  to  him,  '  If  you  had  gone  to  Piperno  to 
give  yourself  up,  you  would  have  got  your  pardon,  since  the  pope 
had  promised  it ;  but  as  you  went  to  Terracina,  so  much  the 
worse  for  you.'     He  was  sent  to  the  galleys  at  Porto  d'Anzio. 

"  The  gentlemen  whom  I  knew  in  Rome  took  pity  on  my 
trouble.  They  asked  that  my  husband  might  be  imprisoned 
nearer  me,  at  the  Cjistle  of  Saint  Angelo.  He  came  there,  and 
was  even  allowed  to  go  out  sometimes  to  see  me.  The  poor 
fellow  behaved  well  in  prison ;  he  learned  to  read  and  write ; 
he  was  exemplary.  He  was  also  allowed  to  sit  for  the  painters, 
and  he  earned  a  little  money.  Some  amnesties  followed;  his 
penalty  was  reduced  several  times,  so  that  at  the  end  of  two  or 
three  yearr.  he  liad  only  eighteen  months  more  to  serve  out.    Wo 


»k3V 


224 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


were  happy  and  full  of  hope.  Our  intention  was  to  build  a  little 
tavern  toward  the  Portese  gate,  and  there  quietly  end  our  lives. 
But  though  he  had  always  been  so  pnident  in  prison,  he  com- 
mitted some  imprudence,  I  don't  now  recollect  what.  I  believe, 
in  a  moment  of  anger,  he  said  some  wicked  words  against  the 
Saint«?.  At  any  rate,  they  sent  him,  in  consequence,  to  the  hulks 
at  Civita  Veccliia  for  the  rest  of  his  days. 

"  I  told  you  that  he  was  the  gentlest  and  best  of  men,  but  this 
time  despair  seized  him.  When  a  man  has  been  so  near  liberty, 
he  docs  not  give  it  up  forever.  That  is  why  the  poor  fellow  came 
to  an  understanding  with  his  companion  in  chains ;  and  one 
day,  when  they  had  been  sent  to  cut  fire-wood  outside  the  town, 
with  a  single  soldier  for  the  two  they  got  rid  of  their  guard! 
The  Madonna  must  have  helped  them  miraculously  afterward, 
for  thty  contrived  to  break  their  fetters,  change  their  clothes', 
crab's  the  Tiber  without  knowing  how  to  swim,  and  reach  Son- 
nino,  which  is  at  the  other  end  of  the  country. 

"  They  defended  themselves  there  for  more  than  a  year  against 
the  soldiers  of  the  States  (of  the  Church)  and  those  of  the'king- 
dora  (of  Naples),  who  tracked  them  on  every  side.  If  they  ma(?e 
60  long  a  resistance,  you  may  be  sure  it  was  owing  to  their  groat 
courage,  their  knowledge  of  the  country,  their  experience  in  the 
business,  and  the  honor  of  the  good  shepherds  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, who  would  rather  denounce  the  gensd'armes  to  them  than 
got  a  hundred  crowns. 

''But  at  last  a  traitor  discovered  the  hut  to  which  they  had 
retreated  for  the  night,  and  they  wore  surrounded  by  Neapolitan 
soldiers.  When  they  became  aware  of  the  fact  it  was  too  late 
to  escapo.  The  comrade  was  killed  un  the  spot,  and  my  husband 
fatally  wounded  ;  his  shoulder  was  fractured. 

"  Unhappily  for  him  and  for  me,  he  did  not  die  at  once.  He 
was  taken  at  first  to  the  hospital  at  Terracina,  and  the  Neapoli- 
tan soldiers  came  after  him  to  claim  the  sum  which  had  been 
promised  them.  Yet  it  was  discovered,  on  questioning  him,  that 
he  was  not  a  subject  of  the  pope,  but  of  the  king.  lie  was  ac- 
corcHng'y  handed  over  to  the  Neapolitan  authorities,  and  tlie 
soldiers  wore  sent  to  got  their  pay  at  home.  They  addressed 
themselves  to  the  governor  of  Gaeta,  who  sent  them  to  the  devil, 
because  the  king  had  not  promised  any  thing ;  and  so  they  were 
paid  by  no  body.     Served  them  right! 


AN   EXCUllSIOX   SOUTH. 


225 


I 


"As  for  my  poor  man,  he  remained  eighteen  months  in  the  hos- 
pital at  Gaeta,  without  a  decided  turn  for  life  or  death.  His  case 
had  been  decided  upon  while  he  was  ill,  and  the  judges  had  con- 
demned him  to  death ;  but  the  executioner  waited  for  him  to  get 
well  before  cutting  off  his  head.  So  he  hardly  had  courage  to 
get  well,  and  would  have  been  content  to  remain  ill  until  the  last 
judgment. 

"  All  this  was  very  painful  for  me  ;  all  the  more  so  as  I  saw 
my  sister  happy,  and  had  found  an  opportunity  of  becoming  so 
myself.  My  brother-in-law — he  who  had  killed  my  first  husband 
— had  made  his  peace  with  justice,  and,  by  informing  on  some 
comrades,  had  got  the  place  of  a  jailor.  He  was  not  badly  off, 
and  Theresa  was  not  to  be  pitied  with  him.  I  was  acquainted, 
in  Rome,  with  a  hatter,  who  was  well  disposed  toward  me,  and 
wished  to  marry  me.  But  I  could  not  take  a  third  husband,  so 
long  as  the  second  was  not  quite  dead.  In  this  sad  condition, 
being  neither  maid,  wife,  nor  widow,  I  decided  on  getting  a  pe- 
tition written  to  the  King  of  Naples,  to  get  my  poor  husband 
executed  as  he  was,  without  waiting  for  his  recovery.  At  the 
same  time  I  began,  together  with  my  sister  and  the  hatter,  a 
neuvine  to  St.  John  the  Beheaded.  My  petition  remained  unan- 
swered, but  the  neuvine  succeeded.  My  husband  died,  properly 
confessed,  at  the  hospital  of  Gaeta,  and  I  married  the  hatter,  who 
was  a  worthy  man,  too,  and  a  pattern  husband.  I  had  by  him 
a  son,  a  dragoon,  who  died  in  the  hospital  of  Viterbo.  The 
father  died  at  Rome,  in  his  room,  the  death  of  the  just.  My 
sister  and  her  brother-in-law  also  are  dead.  I  have  heard  that 
poor  M.  Robert  killed  himself  in  despair  about  a  picture.  I  am 
in  good  health,  and  shall  live  long,  please  God,  though  it  is  very 
cold  at  Sounino,  and  I  can  hardly  see  out  of  my  remaining  eye, 
and  w^ine  is  seven  cents  the  half  pint." 

We  have  taken  leave  of  Maria  Grazia,  and  her  too  celebrated 
country.  This  is  the  village  of  Prossedi,  which  has  also  its  httle 
fame  in  the  annals  of  crime.  Gasperone — the  great  Gasperone 
— was  not  born  at  Sonnino,  but  at  Prossedi. 

It  is  a  hamlet  of  fifteen  hundred  souls,  inhabited  by  peasants, 
who  cultivate  the  olive  and  the  mulberry,  and  sow  grain  for  their 
own  consumption.  There  is  perhaps  greater  ignorance  here  than 
at  Sonnino ;  fifteen  boys,  at  the  most,  go  to  school — one  per 
cent  of  the  population. 

.    10* 


226 


ROME   OP   TO-DAT. 


The  village  is  built  in  such  a  manner  that  carriages  can  not 
penetrate  it.  Our  inn  is  situated  beyond  the  gates,  opposite  the 
chateau  of  Prince  Gabrielli.  The  prince  is  owner  of  a  good  part 
of  the  dwellings.  The  town-jail  belongs  to  him.  His  ministro, 
or  steward,  keeps  two  carriages. 

The  commandant  of  the  fort  is  a  brigadier  of  gensd'armes. 

The  inhabitants,  in  the  absence  of  vehicles,  possess  a  host  of 
asses  and  mules.  It  requires  a  great  number  to  carry  all  the 
necessaries  of  life  up  the  mountain. 

The  women  are  handsome  and  delicate.  They  go  barefoot, 
and  carry  enormous  burdens  on  their  heads,  like  the  women  of 
Sonnino. 

The  village  is  gloomy  and  unclean.  Almost  all  the  houses 
would  need  repairs,  but  they  look  at  the  expense.  To  make 
amends,  there  is  not  an  inhabitant  who  has  not  inscribed  over 
his  door,  "  Hurrah  for  Jesus !  hurrah  for  ^lary !  hurrah  for  the 
blood  of  Jesus !  hurrah  for  the  heart  of  Mary  !  blasphemers,  hoUi 
your  peace  for  the  love  of  Mary  1"  This  flood  of  inscriptions  is 
the  fruit  of  a  quinquennial  mission  which  took  place  in  the  month 
of  March.  The  village  painter  made  his  fortune  by  it.  Every 
inscription  in  large  letters  brought  him  in  twenty-five  paoli  (about 
two  hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars). 

All  these  villages  are  alike  ;  if  you  have  seen  one,  you  know 
them  all.  If  I  described  them  one  by  one,  I  should  lose  my  time 
and  profit  no  one.  In  the  morning  the  men  go  to  the  fields ;  the 
women  go  for  wood  or  water.  In  the  heat  of  the  day,  the  little 
city  is  deserted,  and  as  if  dead.  Toward  evening,  when  the  wind 
grows  a  Uttle  cooler,  the  employees  leave  their  offices,  and  sit 
down  before  the  caf^.  The  Monseigneur,  if  there  be  one  in  the 
locality,  begins  his  httle  promenade  in  violet  stockings,  flanked 
by  two  attendants,  lay  or  ecclesiastic^U,  and  followed  by  a  lackey 
in  full  livery.  At  sunset  the  sellers  of  greens  spread  out  their 
stores  in  the  square.  The  peasants  return  to  the  village,  bur- 
dened with  fatigue  and  tlieir  heavy  tools,  and  buy  some  slight 
provision  for  the  evening  meal ;  the  women  return  from  the 
fountain  with  a  shellful  of  fresh  water ;  they  sup,  and  go  to 
sleep.  Sometimes  they  break  in  upon  the  night,  to  hear  a  ser- 
mon in  a  church  hung  with  gewgaws.  Bodily  fatigue,  mental 
slumber,  ignorance  of  the  past,  difficulties  in  tlie  present,  uncer- 
tainty as  to  the  future,  amd  a  certain  sleepy  resignation,  complete 


AN   EXCURSION   SOUTH. 


227 


the  existence  of  these  poor  people.  A  freezing  dullness  oozes 
from  the  walls.  They  work,  eat,  drink,  and  breed,  and  all  de- 
jectedly. 

If  Rome  should  be  swallowed  up  by  an  earthquake,  the  peas- 
ants of  these  villages  would  continue  to  till  their  fields,  consume 
the  crops  at  home,  and  vegetate  in  a  tolerably  courageous  wretch- 
m  edness.  Every  municipality  fives  by  itself,  and  for  itself,  on  a 
soil  which  is  not  barren.  The  taxes  of  the  parish  pay  the  parish 
doctor  and  the  parish  surgeon,  the  parish  schoolmaster,  and  the 
mending — such  as  it  is — of  the  parish  roads.  The  State  takes  a 
laige  share  of  the  revenues  of  each  year.  In  return  for  its  taxes, 
it  sends  them  a  judge  and  governor,  who  sells  justice.  Agricul- 
ture is  the  sole  career  open  to  human  activity :  there  is  neither 
commerce,  nor  manufacturing,  nor  business,  nor  movement  of 
ideas,  nor  political  life,  nor  any  of  those  powerful  bonds  which 
attach  prox-inces  to  a  capital. 

Of  all  the  useful  animals,  woman  is  the  one  which  the  Roman 
peasant  employs  with  most  profit.  She  makes  bread,  hoe-cake, 
{jji'zza),  and  mortar;  she  spins,  weaves,  and  sews;  she  goes 
every  day  three  miles  for  wood,  and  a  mile  and  a  half  for  bread. 
She  carries  a  mule's  load  on  her  head ;  she  works  from  sunrise 
to  sunset  without  revolt,  and  even  without  complaint.  The 
children,  which  she  bears  in  large  numbers,  and  nurses  herself, 
are  a  valuable  resource ;  from  tlie  age  of  four  they  are  employed 
in  taking  care  of  other  animals. 

I  inquire  everywhere  as  to  the  progress  of  enlightenment. 
*'  IIow  many  people  are  there  here  who  can  read  ?"  "Poci^is- 
simi" — very  few.  The  answer  is  uniform.  So  much  for  primary 
instruction. 

When  a  tree  needs  trimming,  they  cut  its  head  through  the 
middle.  A  touch  of  tlie  saw  in  a  horizontal  direction  soon  does 
the  business.  Do  they  need  the  whole  tree,  they  saw  it  off 
within  a  foot  of  tlie  ground :  the  stump  and  the  remains  of  the 
trunk  rot  where  they  are.     So  much  for  professional  instruction. 

The  parochial  taxes  on  wine,  meat,  pork,  etc.,  are  farmed  out 
to  contractors,  who  take  all  they  can,  and  give  something  to  the 
parish.     So  much  for  administrative  science. 

The  parochial  taxes  are  pretty  heavy,  and  the  peasant  com- 
plains that  he  is  crushed  by  them.  In  the  most  unpretending 
villages,  you  must  pay  a  cent  at  the  barrier  for  three  hundred 


"  ■*  -  tfrtaimi 


228 


liOME   OF  TO-DAY. 


and  thirty-nine  grammes  of  meat,  or  pork ;  fifteen  to  tliirty  cents 
for  the  smallest  cask  of  sour  wine ;  so  much  a  head  for  horses, 
mules,  and  asses ;  so  niuch  for  every  pig  you  rear  at  home.  Tlie 
right  to  light  a  hearth-fire  (focaiico),  costs  from  two  to  fivo 
crowns.     This  last  tax  is  progressive,  so  far  as  I  could  judge. 

Still  you  can  not  say  that  these  worthy  people  are  wretch(Ml — 
like  the  Irish,  for  example.  They  arc  poor ;  that  is  all.  The 
fact  that  religious  services,  school,  and  medical  care,  cost  nothing, 
compensates  to  a  certain  point  for  their  enormous  burdens. 
The  toil  on  their  land  suffices  to  make  them  vegetate  to  old  age. 
They  spend  their  lives  in  providing  for  their  lives.  The  existence 
of  this  class  is  like  an  imperfect  circle. 

You  might  perhaps  be  terrified  to  learn,  that  a  village  of  two 
thousand  souls  has  thirty  priests,  if  you  did  not  know  at  the 
same  time  that  those  priests  cost  nothing.  They  have  benefices, 
endowments,  lands,  thanks  to  the  hberality  of  some  lord  of  the 
good  old  times.  Their  property  is  leased  out,  and  they  live  on 
the  rent. 

It  must  be  owned,  therefore,  that  this  multitude  of  ecclesias- 
tics, which  would  be  burdensome  to  any  other  nation,  costs  little 
enough,  relatively,  to  the  Roman  people.  A  cardinal,  for  instance, 
takes  only  four  thousand  crowns  from  the  budget  of  the  State. 
The  rest  of  his  income  is  derived  from  fat  livings,  and  especially 
from  the  offices  wliich  he  fills.  Plurality  is  allowed,  and  largely 
practiced. 

It  is  in  part  the  unwholesome  air  and  in  part  the  total  absence 
of  security  in  the  plain,  which  has  compelled  the  peasants  of 
these  countries  to  settle  on  airy  and  inaccessible  heights.  It  is 
a  very  ancient  custom,  for  a  good  number  of  the  small  towns  in 
which  we  halt  are  still  surrounded  by  cyclopean  walls.  When 
the  population  diminishes,  a  few  houses  are  allowed  to  fall  into 
ruins ;  when  it  increases,  they  crowd  together  in  the  buildings 
that  remain.  They  build  very  little  for  want  of  capital ;  they 
repair  very  rarely,  and  at  the  last  extremity.  All  these  towns 
look  as  if  they  had  been  built  on  the  same  day,  and  of  one  piece. 
The  peasant  grows  fond  of  his  wretched  dwelling.  He  cares 
little  for  the  length  of  the  distances,  the  steepness  of  the  streets, 
and,  above  all,  for  the  inconvenience  of  the  houses.  Life  is  spent 
in  the  fields. 

To  laborers,  who  sweai  from  morning  till  evening  under  a 


AN   IIXCURSION   SOUTH. 


229 


burning  sun,  on  a  hot  soil,  in  detestable  roads,  the  man  who 
I  stays  at  home  doing  nothing,  and  does  not  even  go  out  into  the 
■  street  to  walk,  is  a  happy  and  privileged  being,  eminently  noble, 
and  near  akin  to  the  immortal  gods. 

I  was  in  the  Palace  Square,  at  the  gate  of  Prossedi,  and  was 
gtilting  a  young  native  to  converse.  He  showed  me  at  some 
distance  a  well-dressed  man,  whom  five  or  six  persons  were 
compelUug  to  get  into  a  carriage.  He  was  a  prominent  person 
in  the  town,  who  had  lost  his  reason,  and  they  were  taking  him 
to  the  asylum  at  Perouse. 

"  There,"  said  the  boy,  "  is  a  man  who  has  spent  all  his  life  in 
his  house,  like  a  prince ;  he  was  not  seen  out  of  doors  four  times 
a  year ;  and  now  he  is  going  to  travel  on  the  highway,  like  a 
common  peasant." 

Pagliano — four  thousand  tvvo  hundred  and  fifty  inhabitants,  a 
garrison  of  fifty  men,  thirty  jailors,  two  hundred  and  fifty  politi- 
cal prisoners.  Last  year  the  prisoners  made  an  attempt  to  es- 
cape. Six  of  them  were  killed  by  musket-shots,  on  the  roof; 
six  others  are  to  be  tried.  An  old  ordinance  of  Cardinal  Lantv'? 
has  been  exhumed,  by  virtue  of  which  they  may  be  condemned 
to  death. 

The  state  of  the  roads  is  so  wretched  in  these  mountains,  and 
the  difficulty  of  transportation  so  great,  that  no  equihbrium  is 
established  in  the  price  of  provisions.  A  pound  of  bread  costs 
two  cents  here,  and  two  cents  and  a  half  four  leagues  off. 
Transportation  for  these  four  leagues  is  therefore  worth  half  a 
cent  a  pound.  Wine  costs  seven  cents  the  half-pint  (foglietta) 
at  Sonnino,  and  two  and  a  half  at  Pagliano.  At  Pagliano  it  is 
pretty  good;  at  Sonnino  it  is  bad.  Does  it  really  cost  four 
cents  and  a  half  to  transport  half  a  pint  of  fiquid  ten  leagues  ? 

Yesterday,  while  we  were  taking  our  siesta  at  Paghano,  the 
bells  began  to  ring  for  a  storm.  It  is  the  fourth  we  have  met 
with  since  Sunday.  This  time  we  got  off  cheaply.  A  few  drops 
of  rain  fell  on  the  fortress,  the  thunder  growled  in  the  distance, 
and  we  were  able  to  start  Olevano. 

This  morning,  going  from  Olevano  to  Pulestrina,  we  saw  the 
traces  of  a  frightful  tempest.  The  brooks,  swollen  by  the  rain, 
had  engulfed  the  adjoining  fields  ;  some  hedges  had  fallen  on  the 
road  with  enormous  masses  of  earth.  Bat  these  ravages  were 
nothing ;    the  hail  had  done  much  worse.      See  the  walnut3 


230 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


spotted  with  large  bruises  ;  the  shoots  of  the  vine  broken  ;  the 
leaves  of  the  trees  torn  to  ribbons ;  everything  tender,  every- 
thing green — all  that  was  promise  and  hope  has  perished. 

We  halted  at  the  inn  at  Palestrina.  A  little  church  that  is 
open  on  the  other  side  of  the  road  is  flooded.  Every  window  in 
the  village  is  broken.  The  peasants  group  round  us  to  describe 
to  us  the  size  of  the  hailstones,  and  to  tell  us  of  the  ravages  of 
the  tempest.  Their  grief,  it  would  seem,  needs  to  overflow. 
They  do  not  amuse  themselves  by  calling  us  "Excellency" 
through  tlieir  noses  ;  they  "  thou  "  us,  and  call  us  "  Brother." 

It  is  a  hackneyed  common-place — the  wretchedness  of  the 
husbandman,  who  sees  the  fruit  of  his  year's  toil  perish  in  a  single 
morning.  When  we  meet  with  this  idea  in  a  book,  we  are 
almost  tempted  to  cry  out  to  the  author,  "  Give  us  something 
new  for  the  love  of  God !"  Besides,  we  are  so  accustomed  to 
see  man  create  a  thousand  resources  for  himself  in  addition  to 
agriculture,  that  we  do  not  understand  how  a  few  handfuls  of 
hailstones  on  a  field  can  ruin  a  whole  family.  But,  after  hving  a 
few  days  among  these  peasants,  seeing  thera  start  before  day- 
break to  hoe  their  corner  of  land,  when  you  know  that  they  have 
no  other  property  in  the  world,  and  that  all  they  have  is  there, 
exposed  to  cold  and  heat ;  in  short,  when  you  touch  with  your 
finger  their  ruined  crops,  when  you  see  tlieir  pale  faces  bathed  in 
genuine  tears,  you  discover  tliat  tliis  common-place  is  as  interest- 
ing as  the  last  new  drama. 

I  asked  one  of  these  despairing  men  if  the  olives  on  the  moun- 
tain had  suffered  as  much  as  the  crops  on  the  plain. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  replied  : 

"  What  are  ohves  ?  What  is  the  vine  ?  The  tJiing  is,  our 
wheat  is  ruined.  When  we  have  no  oil,  we  do  without  it  ; 
when  wine  fails,  we  drink  water ;  but  when  the  grain  is  de- 
stroyed there  is  an  end  of  bread  and  an  end  of  man !" 

I  have  perhaps  dwelt  too  long  on  a  short  and  obscure  journey, 
in  the  course  of  which  I  met  neither  monuments  nor  fine  ladies, 
nor  romantic  adventures.  Peasants,  nothing  but  peasants !  But 
our  well-beloved  Alfred  de  Musset,  in  one  of  his  most  charminsr 
masterpieces,  has  taken  the  pains  to  rhyme  an  excuse  for  me : 


'Ces  pauvres  paysans,  pardonnc-moi  lecteur, 
iJes  pauvres  paysans,  je  les  ai  sur  le  coeur." 


'  c*  Mli-'W'&M^ti'P'  g^' 


XVII. 


THE    YETTURINO. 


TOURISTS  of  quality  know  him  only  by  sight.  If  you  have 
gone  through  Italy  in  a  post-chaise,  you  may  have  put  your 
head  out  of  the  window  to  look  at  an  old  dusty  vehicle,  half  cab, 
half  berlin,  stuffed  with  human  beings,  and  overloaded  with  trunks 
and  bundles.  However  easy  might  be  the  road,  you  had  time 
to  notice  a  man  in  a  cap  and  overcoat,  walking,  whip  in  hand, 
at  the  right  of  the  horses,  speaking  to  them  words  of  consolation. 
This  bourgeois  driver  is  tlie  vetturino,  the  walking  providence  of 
the  middle  class  and  poor  foreigners.  All  artists,  who  are  light 
of  purse,  have  passed  some  days  with  him,  and  preserved  a 
kindly  recollection  of  liis  good-nature. 

In  this  kingdom,  where  the  people  are  poor,  and  human  nature 
somewhat  sleepy,  they  travel  seldom,  slowly,  and  by  short  stages. 
The  mid(ne  class  scarcely  stirs ;  they  vegetate  on  the  spot  where 
they  happen  to  be  born.  Reflect  that  it  is  impossible  to  go  out 
of  Rome  without  a  passport,  and  passports  are  given  only  to  well 
known  men.  They  are  quite  expensive,  and  serve  for  only  one 
journey;  thus  an  inhabitant  of  Terracina,  who  finds  it  neces- 
sary to  cross  the  Neapolitan  frontier  three  hundred  times  a 
year  must  pay  a  crown  every  time  he  enters  or  returns.  More- 
over, he  can  not  pass  through  a  city,  however  small,  without  the 
annoyance  of  a  \is6,  and  compulsory  tribute  to  a  mendicant  offi- 
cial. The  most  determined  traveler  becomes  at  least  discour- 
aged. 

When  a  small  bourgeois  at  Rome  is  absolutely  obliged  to  put 
himself  en  route,  he  makes  the  best  terms  he  can  with  a  vettu- 
rino.    This  u  an  affair  of  importance ;  the  duration  of  the  jour- 


F.I'.'   ■•■",».    -V 


232 


EOME  OF  TO-DAY. 


THE   VETTURINO. 


233 


ney,  the  number  of  meals,  the  cafe,  au  hit  in  the  morning,  the 
fare|  the  amount  of  drink  money,  all  are  discussed.  The  vettu- 
rino  engages  to  be  in  such  a  place  in  so  many  days,  and  by  such 
a  route ;  to  take  as  many  extra  oxen  and  horses  as  shall  be 
necessary  for  every  ascent ;  to  pay  toll  at  the  bridges  and  bar- 
riers on  the  route  ;  to  lodge  his  traveler  in  the  best  inns,  and  to 
furnish  him  a  certain  number  of  meals.  The  contract  is  put 
on  paper,  and  duplicates  are  signed  by  the  contracting  parties. 

The  charges  of  the  vetture  are  fabulously  moderate.  If  my 
memory  serves  me,  a  traveler  can  be  transported,  supplied  with 
meals,  lodged,  and  served  for  six  or  eight  francs  per  day.  But 
the  conveyance  is  much  less  rapid  than  by  railroad.  A  dozen 
leagues  is  not  a  bad  day's  work. 

The  first  traveler  who  treats  with  the  vctturino  is  the  master 
of  the  vehicle  (padrone  del  legno).  He  has  a  preponderating 
voice  in  all  the  discussions  on  the  route.  I  should  say,  however, 
that  discussions  are  very  rare.  The  vetturino  and  his  serv-ant 
are  armed  with  an  unalterable  complacency,  and  I  have  always 
had  reason  to  admire  the  courtesy  of  the  Itahaus  traveling  with 
us.  Was  it  sympathy  for  the  French  nation  ?  Was  it  simply 
the  eflfect  of  that  old  Roman  prcjuchce  which  saw  in  strangers 
so  many  seigneurs?  I  incline  to  the  former  hypothesis.  The 
vetturino  is  much  less  familiar  with  us  than  wiUi  his  country- 
men, and  I  have  noticed  that  at  the  inns  they  take  particular 
care'of  us.  Meanwhile  the  innkeepers  know  better  than  any  one 
else  that  travelers  by  vetture  are  not  exactly  lords. 

I  ti-aveled  in  this  way  from  Rome  to  Bologna.     On  setting  out 
there  were  five  Frenchmen,  with  a  young  Roman  advocate- 
four  inside,  and  two  upon  the  imperial.     Travelers  upon  the  im 
perial  demand  other  seats  when  they  find  it  too  warm. 

My  fellow- travelers  were  a  young  tourist  of  much  intelli 
gence,  M.  Duguo  de  la  Frauconnerie,  a  painter  from  the  Acad- 
emy of  Rome,  M.  Giacomotti,  two  other  artists,  M.  PradicT, 
son  of  the  illustrious  sculptor,  M.  Jules  David,  grandson  of  the 
great  painter,  and  cousin-german  of  my  excellent  friend.  Baron 
Jerome  David.  I  do  not  recall  the  name  of  the  young  advocate 
who  accompanied  us,  but  he  was  a  kind  and  agreeable  man. 
Perhaps  a  certain  something  was  wanting  to  him  which  with  us 
distin.guishes  cultivated  men.  We  were  almost  shocked  to  see 
the  vetturino  treat  him  on  a  footing  of  perfect  equality.     Wo 


ii 


were  from  a  country  where  there  is  an  enormous  distance  be- 
tween a  conductor  of  a  diligence  and  a  doctor  of  law. 

I  know  nothing  more  desirable  nor  more  charming  than  good 
company.  However,  when  you  travel  for  instruction,  I  advise 
you  to  <;o  alone.  From  tlie  hour  when  the  vetturino  took  us  up, 
with  bells  jingling  on  his  three  horses,  to  the  city  of  Foligno, 
where  I  bade  adieu  to  my  friends,  I  saw  but  very  Uttle.  I  con- 
fess with  shame,  but  with  a  certain  retrospective  pleasure,  that 
the  conversation  was  but  a  perpetual  burst  of  laughter. 

The  dreary  and  desolate  country  around  Rome  cliangcs  in  pro- 
portion to  our  distance  from  the  city.  Tliis  is  a  fact  I  have  al- 
ready noted  more  than  ten  times.  Rome  is  perhaps  the  only 
great  city  in  the  world  without  suburbs,  the  only  one  surroimded 
by  an  uncultivated  tract  of  country.  One  must  leave  it  a  long 
way  behind  before  finding  good  roads,  busy  life,  an  active  and 
prosperous  cultivation.  The  greater  the  distance  from  the  capi- 
tal, the  more  alive  the  country,  the  more  happy  the  people. 

At  Civita  Castellana  the  vetturino  sold  his  horses,  lie  found 
a  pood  chance  for  a  bargain,  and  was  not  the  man  to  neglect  his 
alTairs.     But  we  1  what  should  we  do  ? 

"  Bah  1"  replied  he,  with  a  philosophical  smile,  "  the  Madonna 
wiU  never  leave  us  by  the  way."  The  next  morning  the  vettu- 
rino liitched  up  three  jades,  as  ugly,  courageous,  and  jmghng  as 

the  former.  . 

Tliis  is  the  invariable  order  of  march.     The  vetturmo  awakes 
his  travelers  at  the  break  of  day,  and  looks  after  the  baggage.     A 
cafe  is  open  ten  steps  from  the  inn.     We  are  Uiken  there  for  the 
first  breakfast.     We  set  out  fresh,  and  travel  at  a  small  trot  until 
toward  tc^n  o'clock.     Then  comes  the  great  halt.     The  baggage 
is  t^kcn  down,  in  case  any  one  of  the  trailers  wishes  tx)  change 
his  linen      A  modest  but  substantial  meal  is  served,  seasoned 
with  some  wine  grown  on  the  spot.     Satisfied,  we  stroll  over 
the  neighborhood  ;  the  indolent  have  the  right  to  ask  for  a  cham- 
ber for°a  siesU.     Between  two  and  three  o'clock  we  are  again 
on  the  way,  and  travel  moderately  until  six.     The  baggage  then 
descends,  Uie  horses  go  to  the  stable,  and  the  travelers  walk 
about  until  supper-time.  , 

All  Uiis  is  so  well  regulated  that  five  or  six  veitiin  can  travel 
wiUiin  sight  of  each  other.  Our  young  advocate  told  a  story 
of  one  of  his  friends,  who  was  married  from  one  to  another. 


234 


KOME   OP  TO-DAY. 


I 


TILE  VETTURINO. 


235 


The  first  day  lie  observed  a  Imndsomc  young  girl  travelinfr  witli 
her  parents  to  take  possession  of  a  small  inheritance  He  re- 
cognized her  the  next  day,  smiled  at  her  on  the  foUowing,  spoke 
to  her  on  Uie  fourth  day,  asked  her  in  marriage  on  the  fill!,,  and 
obtamed  her  at  the  end  of  the  week,  thanks  to  a  bottle  of 
Monte  Pulciano,  which  the  father  bad  imprudently  accepU'd 

Are  we  gomg  to  phy  the  same  game?  for  here  is  a  vetture 
followmg  us  step  by  step,  as  if  to  gather  up  our  dust.  Five 
marriageable  daughters,  and  handsome  enough  I  And  the  ruddy 
nose  of  monsieur  the  father  testifies  that  ho  has  no  great  con- 
tempt for  the  wiuo  of  Monte  Pulcmno.  But  no  one  of  us  thinks 
ot  marriage.* 

In  the  bagnio  of  Civita  Castellana  the  famous  Gasporone  is 
mildly  expiating  his  crimes.  I  must  visit  this  great  man:  and 
at  once  set  out  for  his  house. 

His  house  is  the  proper  word,  for  he  literally  rei-ns  in  tho 
bagmo.  Thirteen  or  fourteen  aged  bandits  form  his  court  The 
government  provides  him  a  civil  list  of  five  cents  per  dny  for  tho 
expense  of  presentation.     Strangers  who  visit  him  pay  tribute. 

Ihis  monarch,  m  perpetuity,  received  me  in  a  large  chamber 
which  serves  him  for  a  throne-room.  He  advanced  three  steps' 
and  extended  me  his  hand  with  a  patronizing  smile.  His  cour^ 
tiers  and  a  few  gensd'armes  made  a  circle  round  us 

Gasperone  is  a  grand  old  man  of  remarkable  beauty.  His 
form  IS  tall  and  haughty,  his  features  manly  and  regular,  his  look 
briUiant.  He  wears  a  long  white  beard.  The  explosion  of  a 
gun  has  powdered  his  face  with  a  myriad  of  small  bluish  spots. 
His  dress,  of  coarse  cloth,  is  that  of  a  peasant  in  easy  circum- 
stances. He  19  not  req^red  to  wear  the  uniform  of  convicts  or 
to  be  m  their  company.  He  lives  by  himself,  surrounded  by 
his  old  companions,  his  ennui  relieved  by  the  visit  of  strangers 

Ut  the  mountains  where  he  was  born,  he  has  kept  only  the 
accent  and  the  shoes.  He  showed  me  his  sandals,  cAocA./fast- 
ened  by  leather  straps,  and  said  to  me  with  a  modesty,  suffi- 
ciently haughty :  ^ ' 

"Excuse  me  if  I  do  not  spoak  pure  Roman;  I  was  born  a 
c/iuc/iar,  and  a  chochar  I  shall  die." 

Tliis  title  of  cAocAar,  or  wearer  o^  choches,  is  employed  at  Rome 


•  My  four  fellov^-trayelers  are  still  bachelors,  except  tvro.    Soptcmbcr,  1360. 


as  a  term  of  contempt.  Tho  Cardinal-Prince  Altieri,  when  en- 
gaged in  a  warm  discussion  Avith  the  Secretary  of  State,  did  not 
hesitate  to  cast  in  his  teeth  the  epithet  of  chochar.  It  is  positive 
that  Cardinal  Antonelli,  like  all  children  in  Sezza,  wore  chuches  in 
his  boyhood. 

Gasperone  asked  me  if  I  was  a  Roman  ?  It  was  evidently 
meant  for  politeness  and  as  a  compliment  to  my  pronunciation  of 
the  Italian  language.  I  thanked  him  for  his  courtes}',  and  told 
him  I  was  a  Frenc.'lunan. 

"Ah  I"  replied  he,  smiling,  "take  me  with  you  to  France?" 
I  tried  to  demonstrate  to  hiui  that  a  man  lilvc  himself  could  find 
nothing  to  do  in  such  a  country  as  France.     The  gensd'armes, 
wiK)  were  listening,  shvugged  their  shoulders  when  I  said  that 
brigandage  was  iiiifjossible  with  us. 

The  fact  is,  that  brigamlage,  so  nearly  exterminated  among 
the  mountains  of  Sounino,  was  still  nourishing  in  the  Pontine 
Marshes  and  the  Romagna.  They  told  me  of  a  proprietor  who 
was  besieged  in  his  house  at  the  very  gates  of  Rimini.  They 
also  gave  me  an  account  of  a  prison,  whose  occupants,  prisoners 
and  jailors,  had  all  escaped  to  rob  in  the  neighboring  country. 

Gasperone  does  not  want  a  certain  bonhomie,  but  he  appeared 
to  me  a  little  still*  and  preoccupied  with  tho  idea  of  his  rank. 
He  remained  standing  while  we  were  seated.  I  involuntarily 
thought  of  that  Roman  prince  who  said,  in  his  haughty  pride  : 
"  I  never  seat  myself  before  a  man  of  the  middle  class,  for  the 
reason  that  it  may  be  necessary  to  -seat  him." 

However,  when  I  spoke  of  Bonnino,  of  Maria  Grazia,  and  of 
the  mountains  I  had  visited,  the  old  brigand  began  to  look  cheer- 
ful, and  yielded  to  the  pleasure  of  conversation.  He  recounted 
some  episodes  of  his  active  lile,  and  especially  tlie  last,  which  is 
always  on  his  heart.  He  protested  against  the  illegality  of  his 
detention.  "  For,  finally,"  said  he,  "  the  gensd'annes  did  not 
take  me;  I  did  not  surrender.  They  got  possession  of  me 
through  treason.  I  had  accepted  an  interview  with  the  govern- 
ment to  sign  a  treaty.  They  violated  the  right  of  person  in  de- 
taining me !" 

The  gensd'armes  listened  with  respectiul  admiration.  One 
of  them  said  to  him,  "Of  what  do  you  complain?  You  made 
wai ;  we  never  shall.  You  have  been  captain,  and  I  who  guard 
you  will  never  be  more  than  marshal  of  the  lodge,  because  I 


23G 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


have  neither  wife  nor  daughters  to  work  for  my  advance- 
ment" 

After  a  good  half-hour  of  conversation,  I  took  leave     Gas- 
perone  was  very  anxious  that  I  should  carry  away  some  sou- 
vemr  of  him.     He  offered  me  a  list  of  his  murders,  to  the  numl  .er 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven,  if  my  memory  serves  me. 
■He  added  that  Englishmen  never  failed  to  take  it. 
I    What  a  strange  animal  is  man!     That  list  horrified  me  and  I 
refused  It  entirely.     I  had  pressed,  without  repugnance,  the  hand 
which  had  committed  so  many  crimes.     The  sheet  of  paper  on 
which  the  catalogue  had  been  prepared,  inspired  me  with  a  sen- 
timent of  disgust.     I  bade  adieu  to  this  great  man  who  had  slain 
80  many  little  ones,  and  gave  him  a  gratuity,  which  he  accepted 
hke  a  simple  cli.f  de  bureau.     His  allowance  was  formerly  ten 
cents ;  they  have  reduced  it  to  \:iYe^  the  last  few  years      This  is  a 
source  of  grief  he  takes  care  never  to  forget  in  conversation 

The  mn  of  Civit^-Castellana  is  a  type  of  the  large  Italian  inns 
such  as  one  finds  in  romances;  balconies,  terraces,  flowers  of  the 
south,  large  courts  open  for  post-chaises-nothing  is  wantin-     It 
13  saying  the  tnith,  that  Civita-Castellana  is  on  the  classic  '"route 
irom  Komc  to  Florence. 

What  vexes  me  beyond  expression  is  the  obstinate  bc-ary  by 
^hich  we  are  pursued.  In  tl.e  better  class  of  inns,  the  waiter 
ho  ds  out  his  hand,  the  scoundrel  who  has  char-c  of  the  ba-^a-e 
holds  out  his  hand,  the  stable-boy  holds  out  his  hand.  The  Inn- 
keeper himself  sometimes  does  us  the  honor  to  ask  forap-atuity 
On  the  road,  when  the  vitturino  takes  extra  o.xen  or  horses,  the 
man  who  has  just  received  his  pay  draws  you  aside  by  the  sleeve 
tor  an  important  communication.  What  does  he  want?  \ 
small  piece  of  money  to  buy  bread.  If  bread  were  scarce,  or 
dear,  this  importunity  would  perhaps  be  excusable.  But  the 
crops  are  magnificent;  the  laborera  themselves  say  so  when 
they  leave  their  work  and  come  to  stretch  out  their  hands.  Evi- 
dently, these  people  do  not  need  the  cents  they  a.sk  for.  The-- 
beg  from  principle,  for  the  honor  of  the  country  and  of  the  -o^- 
ernment.  ® 

How  proud  one  is  of  being  a  Frenchman  I  Yet  I  must  avow 
ttat  mendicity  is  still  more  arrogant  and  less  excusable  in  Pari^ 
A  Roman  driver  to  whom  you  have  given  no  drink-money,  con- 
tents himself  with  inwardly  cursing  you ;  a  Parisian  driver  ilisulw 


THE   VETTURINO. 


237 


1 


you,  and  even  worse.  There  are  cafes  on  the  Boulevards  of 
Paris,  which  collect  every  year  more  than  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  of  alms.  The  waiters  in  these  establishments,  who  have 
no  other  salary,  share  this  enormous  sum  with  an  absurdly  rich 
proprietor;  and  sixty  thousand  francs  rent  are  paid  for  the  forced 
charity  of  poor  consumers. 

At  Narni,  the  vetturino  sold  us  to  one  of  his  cronies,  who 
a^-reed  to  carry  us  upon  the  same  conditions  to  the  end  of  the 

journey. 

The  Cascade  of  Temi  is  artificial,  hke  that  of  Tivoli.  Art  has 
come  to  aid  Nature ;  a  river  has  been  turned  from  its  bed,  in 
order  to  precipitate  it  into  the  midst  of  rocks.  Here,  the  indus- 
trious peasants  have  erected  a  hundred  different  inclosures  near 
the  cascade.  Each  .one  of  them  imposes  a  tax  upon  the  curiosity 
of  travelers. 

At  Froligno  I  bade  my  agreeable  companions  adieu.     They 
were  going  in  the  direction  of  Perouse,  which  had  not  yet  been 
pillaged  by  the  mercenary  Germans  of  Colonel  Schmidt.     I  as- 
cended the  Apennines  by  a  route  sufficiently  naked  and  very 
dreary.     Behold  me  on  the  Adriatic  slope,  in  the  least  submissive 
of  the  papal  provinces.     Serravele,  Tolentino,  Macerata,  Recanati, 
the  first  cities  and  villages  on  the  way  to  Ancona,  have  an  en- 
tirely new  physiognomy.     How  far  we  are  from  Rome  and  her 
desolate  Campagna  I     Here  the  wide  roads  are  well  kept,  filled 
with  vehicles  and  pedestrians,  and  bordered  with  fertile  fields. 
I  have  never  seen  the  plains  of  Lombardy,  but  I  doubt  if  they 
are  better  cultivated  than  this  admirable  country.     Property  is 
divided.      The  population  no  longer  pens  itself  up  in  tlie  nar- 
row compass  of  villages.     Rural  habitations  in  good  condition 
are  everywhere  to  be  seen. 

I  have  explained  to  you  how  agriculture  can  be  only  a  passing 
accident  in  the  Campagna  di  Roma.  They  bring  bullocks  and 
carts  on  a  meadow.  Thoy  plow,  they  sow,  they  weed,  they 
gather  tlie  crops  in  haste,  and  the  land  is  left  in  repose  for  a  pe- 
riod of  at  least  seven  years.  Here  agriculture  is  in  its  normal 
state.  Every  field  is  planted  with  trees,  and  tilled,  dug,  and  fu- 
migated under  the  trees.  I  have  frequently  seen  in  the  same 
fiefd  of  two  or  tliree  acres,  a  crop  of  mulberry  leaves,  a  vintage 
hanging  upon  the  trunks  of  the  trees,  and  a  harvest  ripening  at 
their  roots.     The  vino  matches  elegantly  with  the  maple,  the 


238 


EOJtE  OP  TO-DAT. 


•mWow,  the  poplar,  and  the  youn--  elm     Th„  i 
elm  furnish  exceUent  provender  for  S;,.l7,        ""  "[  "'"  y°""? 
I  ought  to  forget  that  we  are  L  [he  naS  ^ff  t  '^^"^  ^<^'^"- 
city  of  Wetto  to  recall  the  realty    ^^     ^'"'''  ^"'  ^'''  '=  '''« 

-d  fourlundre^  la     Z^^Tl' I'  ^  '''  '''"  "^■^-  "'- 

a  series  of  miracles  too  well  known  f>  "•"  '■^'''•'"'^''  '"> 

Every  Catholic  .nows  that^tweyThJ  ^^r '''.•^^- 
some  thirty  feet  lonrr  twpirn  f    .    7i  ^^o'y  V  irq:in  Mary, 

wasbroug^tfrom^S  nt  Hi:"''  ^'^r^^'"  ^^'^ '■'^'^' 
ofilay  12,  1291.  It  stopped  atfi.t™^  0^".  °",  ""  °'^'" 
mained  about  three  years  and  a  h.l?  n  ^f ""''"''  ^''^"'^^  it  re- 
1204  it  crossed  the  id^  a  ll^ri, v  t  f  '^''"^-' 
worthy  of  itself.  It  wandered  abom  1  ,^  ""'""  """''^ 
near  Loretto,  and  finaUy  stopped  at  L, 7,  ""'"  '"  "'''  ''"^'^^'^ 
meters  from  the  sea  '^'""''•''  "'^  "''■'''=  ^ilo- 

brought  the  eLtrvrist":  bir.;:  ?'"""^-  ^-^  "-^^ 

the  food  of  her  divine  child  '^"  ^^"'^^  '""<^P='^«J 

ston2tTa\"i:e:i.:l:„rr^^^^^  of  smal,.  ron,. 

can  be  richer  and  more  maSSe„t  tl^an  n  '"■"'''•    ''°"""" 
which  they  have  covered  if  %f ''"'  """>  *«  ornaments  with 

cabin  and'tl.  temple  SenvSeTitu'  '''""''  '''"  '"""^'^^ 

tween  the  Apostle  Peter  and  PoKoXir'''.'^  """  '^- 
recognized  under  its  marble  coatbt  t^l  ",.'^"'  '"  ^'^^^ 

der  the  poetry  of  Cardinal  Bembo^  ''''"^'"'''  "''"^  - 

This  miraculous  house  owns  tho  .-■,,„  „r  t 
horizon  that  surrounds  it    T  n.  ^r     ^'*'""  ^"''  ""  '^e 

francs  income  in  stock,  titl  0,^^^  '^"J  ''""'"^'^  "'"-^"'J 
which  are  enormous      l!^  ?""'"'  ""^  "'"•'»'»'  ^•^^^'P'^ 

and  other  obTe^de  £  tl  rblZ  ^.h^""",";  ■^''•"^'''^ 
loretto  a  profit  of  from  four  1  fi      1  """^.'^  'he  inhabitants  of 

annum.  This  trade  not  onT  *  J"  T^'"'^  "'°"^^°''  ^'^"'^  P^r 
but  brings  aae?u\TnSur rL-r Vl!:  1? ''"'^^^ 
seen  an  old  lady  from  Dublin  busyin!  he3'  a  S  T"  T'' 
hour  in  gettmg  blessed  a  Uiousand  111.1,  .''"'""•■■' "'^"^ 

chaplet^  and  bells  to  ward  off  Sin!      ''r^V""'  '""'•■"'' 

"u  lio'iLniQg.     An  ecclesiastic,  wiiose 


THE  VETTUEINO, 


239 


patience  I  admire,  signed  for  her  a  score  of  images ;  he  put  his 
5cal  to  twenty  others  by  attaching  to  each  a  small  shred  of  black 
crape ;  he  sanctified  several  jewels  by  passing  them  into  the  basin 
from  which  the  infant  Jesus  ate,  after  which  the  good  lady  made 
an  offering  at  least  equal  in  value  to  all  her  purchases. 

I  do  no°t  speak  of  the  most  precious  offerings,  which  are  sent 
Ly  princes  and  grandees  of  the  Catholic  religion.  There  are 
some  ludicrous  ones;  among  them  the  breeches  of  Uie  King  of 
Saxony.  There  are  some  splendid  ones :  the  treasury  of  the 
holy  house  has  repaired  the  losses  of  1797. 

The  statue  of  the  Virgin,  sculptured  by  the  inevitable  St 
Luke,  is  literally  covered  with  jewels.  This  little  image  of  black 
wood,  which  formerly  sojourned  in  the  cabinet  of  medals  of  the 
Imperial  Library,  has  a  richer  casket  than  a  European  princess. 

My  cicerone  was  at  the  same  time  a  servant  to  the  hotel  and 
sacristan  to  tlie  holy  house ;  as  for  the  rest  sufficiently  incredu- 
lous. He  seemed  to  be  especially  occupied  with  statistics  and 
financial  matters.  He  assured  me  that  the  holy  house  is  sur- 
rounded with  one  hundred  and  twenty  altars,  where  one  hundred 
and  twenty  priests  say  one  hundred  and  twenty  masses  every 

day.  ^       , 

He  drew  my  attention  to  the  confessionals,  where  peniten- 

tiaries  of  all  languages  receive  confession  of  special  sins,  which 
a  simple  priest  can  not  absolve. 

"  All  this  brings  much  money  I"  said  he,  falUng  into  prose. 
*'  There  are  here  more  tlian  three  hundred  of  us  employees,  each 
of  whom  receives  two  measures  of  wine  and  two  pounds  of 
bread  per  day.  Our  finances  have  all  been  deranged  recently 
by  M.  Narducci.  He  left  a  deficit  in  the  cash-box  of  thret* 
hundred  thousand  francs,  so  they  removed  him." 

''  And  what  have  they  done  with  him?"  r  u    tt  i 

"  They  have  appointed  him  trustee  of  the  Hospital  of  the  Holy 
Chost  in  Rome,  doubly  because  the  Holy  Ghost  is  richer  and 

more  difficult  to  ruin."  .  ,    ,     i    i     v.     „^ 

The  traveler  who  eaters  the  church  in  which  the  holy  house 
is  inclosed,  perccivefi  upon  the  right  a  college  of  R.  R.  P.  P-  Jesu- 
it^  at  tiric'ft  the  apostolic  pabce,  where  resides  the  successor 
of  M.  Narducci.  The  apostx>Uc  palace  is  kept  m  a  middlmg 
way.  Too  many  women  in  white  combing-cloths  are  to  be  seen 
there  •    the  women,  without  doubt,  of  the  inferior  employ^ 


240 


EOME  OP  TO-DAY. 


On  the  Other  hand,  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  coBo-e  of 
Jesuits  seen  from  without,  inspires  a  sort  of  re.pe.t  in  t^ 
least  elevated  minds.    It  has  a  strict  and  orderly  app'olt  ce 

In  the  basement  of  the  apostolic  palace  is  the  adn,  ,ahle  apoth- 
ecary shop,  the  vessels  of  which  arc  nearly  all  genuine  Faenl 
porcehun,  executed  after  designs  by  the  great  maften 

I  have  passed  a  whole  day  in  the  church.  It  is  a  veritablo 
museum,  and  I  was  perfectly  happy  there,  without  the  Zont 
mty  of  dogs  of  bcgprs,  of  ciceroni,  and  of  some  oM  women 
who  obstmately  w,sh  to  make  the  tour  of  the  holy  hore  on 
the.r  knees,  for  my  purpose  and  at  my  expense 

to  Italy.  At\ergaville,  m  the  country  of  my  grandmother  I 
knew  an  old  woman,  a  pilgrim  by  profession,  who,  for  acertl'in 
compensation,  went  to  the  most  renowned  ckapeLs  and  gl  n  d 
her  hvehhood  by  gaining  indulgences.  I  believe,  however  that 
tto  busmcss  as  much  more  lucrative  at  lorctto  than  at  vWga- 

The  Italians  sometimes  say,  '•  stupid  as  an  Englishman  "    This 

iz^: '"  "'^"^^  "pp^^'^'^  '^  -  -'  oui/vici^uTbut  !;■! 

frie*^?llIrFn '  r  f"'"  "'  '1!^  '"°^^'=  '™'"  "^^-f^-'™-  ^-t  its 
tnends,  the  English,  aro  not  beasts.     One  of  the  inhabitants  of 

Ancona  whom  I  met  at  Loretto,  afforded  me  an  explan  t  "n  for 

ot  tnghU,  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  British  island.,  but  in  rcalilv 
Jns  reputation  of  being  beasts  ought  to  be  confin  d  to  he Tr .  f 

stori,^,  tlL^^^w^^^^^^  =°  ^"■'^-"^^'^  "'«  "O^t  dubious 

I  shuddered  with  horror  once,  on  seeing  in  a  small  side  clnnol 
of  a  church  the  dead  body  of  a  child,  with  its  facT  o  i,  wkh 
flios.  The  poor  little  child  was  dressed  as  an  abbo  llcZZt 
a  umversal  custom.  I  asked  how  any  family  could  thus  abandon 
the  mortal  remains  of  a  child,  but  an  ins..(nt  alter  perSed 
tta  the  child  was  not  alone.  A  commissionaia^  or/cLw 
paid  by  the  day  to  watch  the  body  and  drive  away  'tl^  £  4^ 
asleep  in  a  corner  of  the  chapel.  This  sad  sight  spoi  ed  my  p^r 
sure  for  the  whole  day,  and  whenever  a  fl/ht  u„  L'  "^ 


TOE  VETTCnnfO. 


241 


hand  while  I  remained  in  the  church,  I  dmve  him  off  with  a 
Bpecies  of  horror.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  filthy  ere!  u.es 
must  be  the  same  that  I  had  seen  clustered  around  (he  noS 
and  eyes  of  the  poor  little  child. 

The  sound  of  voices  attracted  me  outside  the  church,  where  I 
saw  a  procession  of  chr.char,  without  their  bells.  These  unhannv 
persons  had  marched  with  bare  feet  from  the  mounU  ns  ofT 

t^""^,      T^r"  ""'^  "'""'^"  '"^''^  '°  ^"^'^  ^-^•i^  the  pilgrim's 
s  aff.    The  chief  of  the  band,  a  stout,  well-built  youth  wCa 
cloak  ornamented  with  shells.   The  sweat  and  dust  ran  i^  Itl  ick 
mud  down  their  healthy  faces;  thoy  were  shouting,  at  the  top 
of  their  voices,  a  canticle  in  the  common  tongue.     When  ab^^ 
twenty  paces  from  the  threshold  of  tlie  church  and  its  magnificent 
bronze  doors,  they  feU  upon  their  knees,  and  made  their  "entrance 
upon  them.     Several  of  Uiem,  wiUiout  doubt  the  most  fervent 
went  in  this  manner,  from  tlie  door  as  far  as  the  sacred  chapel' 
which  IS  at  the  end  of  the  churcli.    On  reaching  this,   the; 
uttered  loud  cries,  some  accusing  themselves  of  their  faults  • 
others  begging  of  the  Madonna  that  special  lavor  which  the^ 
came  to  ask.     One  ugly  girl  begge.l  the  release  of  a  criminal 
sentenced  to  the  galleys,  with  whom  she  was  in  love :  a  husband 
sought  the  cure  of  his  wife ;  a  wife  wished  for  her  husband  some 
thing  or  other,  but  evidently  nothing  good,  for  she  denounced 
him  to  the  Madonna,  an<l  accused  him  in  the  most  picturesque 
style.     When  they  had  aU  cast  tl.eir  first  fire,  they  resumed  the 
canticle,  which  had  been  interrupted.     Tlie  veteran  on  guard 
sword  m  hand,  and  the  diamonds  of  the  Madonna,  danced  in 
unison  with  them.     I  would  never  finish  if  I  should  undertake 
to  enumerate  all  the  promenading  about  on  their  knees  the  ador- 
ations, and  kissing  which  these  poor  creatures  exhibited.     The 
artists  who  have  exposed  Oieir  chefs  dceuvre  in  marble  and  bronze 
to  the  too  caressing  devotion  of  the  chuchar  arc  much  to  be  pitied 
I  remember  one  bas-relief  of  the  flagellation,  where  the  figure  of 
Christ  has  been  Uterally  eflaced  by  the  acid  kisses  of  these  eaters 
of  onions. 

The  city  of  Loretto  is  nothing  but  one  great  shop  for  the  salo 
of  chaplets.  It  seemed  to  me  for  tlie  moment  in  rather  a  stag- 
nant condition,  for  we  were  in  Uie  middle  of  the  summer.  Tho 
dealers  to  whom  I  spoke  complained  of  the  dullness  of  trade, 
and  cursed  the  intensity  of  the  heat.      Nevertheless,  toward 

11 


242 


ROME   OP  TO-DAY. 


evening  the  street  became  more  animated.  Great  carts,  drawn 
by  oxen,  and  loaded  with  sacks  of  rye,  passed  constantly.  Each 
of  them  bore  the  cypher  of  the  Society  of  Jesus.  The  well-to- 
do  inhabitants  and  rich  dealers  began  to  flock  out  of  the  city  to 
enjoy  the  fresh  air.  I  met  in  one  carriage  a  Roman  prelate,  who 
had  an  old  woman  on  his  right  side,  and  two  young  people  in 
front  of  him.  My  observations  stopped  at  this  point,  for  our 
driver  harnessed  up  his  horses  and  drove  me  to  the  gates  of  An- 
cona,  where  I  was  to  sleep. 

We  were  stopped  outside  the  city,  because  it  has  the  privileges 
of  a  free  port,  and  you  have  to  be  examined  by  the  custom-house 
officers  before  being  allowed  to  depart.  This  did  not  prevent 
the  custom-house  officers  from  examining  us  again,  the  day  but 
one  after,  at  about  two  or  three  kilometres  from  Ancona.  This 
was  for  a  principle,  or,  if  you  like  it  better,  to  have  their  palms 
tickled,  I  passed  the  whole  of  one  day  in  this  great  city,  but 
saw  nothing  that  I  wanted  to  find.  Trade  was  very  dull ;  the 
Austrian  sentinels  had  quiet  guard  duty  round  the  forts ;  the 
Austrian  police  scrutinized  the  passport  of  every  pedestrian  at  the 
entrance  of  the  city ;  the  Austrian  officers  played  chess  in  the 
cafes.  These  amiable  officers,  by  the  way,  have  shot  sixty  peo- 
ple in  seven  years  in  this  same  city  of  Ancona.  But  then,  as 
they  have  shot  one  hundred  and  ninety  at  Bologna  in  the  same 
space  of  time,  Ancona  ought  not  to  complain. 

One  thousand  eight  hundred  Jews  are  tolerated  in  Ancona. 
Of  course,  something  ought  to  be  done  for  trade.  The  Jewish 
quarter  is  not  by  any  means  the  handsomest  in  the  city,  but 
rather  the  contrary.  But  the  people  who  inhabit  it  impressed 
me  with  the  beauty  of  their  persons.  The  Jewish  women  are  as 
lianilsome  in  this  place  as  they  are  ugly  at  Rome.  This  is  a  great 
deal  to  say,  and  those  who  know  the  Roman  Ghetto  will  per- 
haps tax  me  with  exaggeration. 

Why  is  this  same  race  flourishing  here,  and  so  degraded  there? 
Without  doubt,  because  the  religious  exactions  are  less  oppress- 
ive at  two  hundred  and  ten  kilometres  from  the  Vatican. 

I  arrived  at  Sinigaglia— or  Senigallia — on  the  day  of  the 
opening  of  the  fair.  Sinigaglia  is  a  city  of  twelve  thousand 
nine  hundred  and  fifty  inhabitants,  but  its  population  nearly 
doubled  between  tlie  20th  of  July  and  the  8th  of  August.  All 
tlie  houses  were  transformed  into  shops ;  trade  usurped  every- 


THE  TETTUKIXO. 


243 


thmg,  transforming  and  enlivening  this  quiet  little  city.    Unfor- 
unately  for  me  the  majority  of  the  shops  were  still  to  let;  the 
traders  who  had  arrived  had  hardly  begun  to  unpack.     Tlx-  fair 
of  Sm.gagha  resembled  some  exposition  of  industrv,  on  the  day 
ol  the  official  opening.     Besi.les,  I  was  assured  thaVthis  trades- 
man s  gala-t.me  is  each  year  losing  its  importance  and  its  renown 
1  he  same  has  t.ken  place  at  Beaucaire,  at  Leipsic,  and  in  all 
cvdized  countries.     Fairs  have  now  no  value,  and  have  no  rea- 
son for  being  held,  where  trade  is  carried  on  all  the  year  roun<l 
A  manufacturer  of  combs,  named  Albert  ilastai,  left  Breschia 
h.s  native  place,  about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
established  himself  at  Sinigaglia.      There  he  made  a  kind  of 
lortune,  and  his  family  prospered  so  well  that  he  finally  slinncMl 
into  the  position  of  one  of  the  small  nobles  of  the  province.    Jian 
Mana  Mastai-  won  the  hand  of  a  Feretti,  of  Ancona,  and,  thank. 
to  so  high  an  alliance,  he  became  Count  Mastai  Feretti.     From 
this  fortunate  race  sprung,  in  1792,  Gian  Maria  Mastai  Feretti 
who  now  rules  at  Rome  under  the  venerated  name  of  Pius  IX  ' 
lie  cities  of  the  Marshes  and  Romagna  are  none  of  them  very 
wealthy;  but  there  are  very  few  of  them  which  do  not  induL^e 
m  the  luxury  of  a  theater.     The  taste  for  art,  and  above  all  ibr 
music,  is  much  more  developed  upon  this  slope  of  tiie  Apen- 
nines than  upon  the  other  side.     At  Pesaro,  at  Remini,  Foili 
and  laenza,  and  in  nearly  all  the  cities,  the  walls  themselves 
bear  witness  to  the  fanaticism  of  the  people.     The  dilettanti 
I>aint  upon  their  houses  the  names  of  the  leaders,  or  artists  then 
most  in  vogue.     On  every  side  you  see,  "Long  Hve  Verdi  1"— 
^'Long  hve  Ristori!"—"  Hurrah  for  the  divine  Rossi  I"— "  Lon- 
hve  Medori !"-"  Corvetti !"— "  Lotti  I"-"  Panciani !"-" Ferri  l" 
--"Cornago!"~"Rotar'-"MarianiI"     It  does  not  seem  that 
the  missionaries  sU'uggle  very  hard  against  tliis  influence.     With- 
out doubt  they  are  occupied  in  the  villages  of  the  other  side  of 
the  mounUins.     They  preach  to  the  peasants  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean, who  have  no  need  of  conversion;  they  abandon  the  citi- 
zens of  the  Adriatic  to  their  earUily  passions.     For  all  this,  I 
noticed  upon  several  of  the  houses  of  Faenza,  the  cypher  of  the 
Jesuits  marked  upon  the  wall  near  a  little  victory  holding  a  crown 
over  the  name  of  Madame  Ristori. 

All  the  theaters  of  these  little  cities  are  large  and  handsome. 


244 


ROME   OF  TO-DAY. 


Above  all,  they  are  convenient    I  only  wish  ours  liad  the  same 
recommendations. 

There  is  no  theater  at  San  Marino,  but  there  are  numbers  of 
monks,  many  beggars  and  ignorant  persons,  and  very  little  civil- 
ization. This  singular  State,  containing  nine  thousand  five  hundred 
men,  which  retains  the  name  of  republic  in  the  midst  of  the  ab- 
solute monarchy  of  the  pope,  has  all  the  characteristics,  to  me,  of 
a  rural  ghetto,  I  am  persuaded  that  the  successors  of  St.  Peter 
have  respected  their  rights  purposely,  to  show  to  their  subjects 
how  much  superior  the  monarchy  is  to  a  republic.  It  is  appa- 
rently with  the  design  of  demonstrating  the  superiority  of  Cathol- 
icism that  they  have  cultivated,  for  so  many  centuries,  a  wretched 
handfull  of  IsraeUties  in . 

The  pohtical  constitution  of  San  Marino  has  been  very  much 
praised  in  our  time ;  the  even  average  of  its  receipts  and  expen- 
ditures ;  the  disinterestedness  of  its  citizens,  of  whom  not  one  in 
a  period  of  fourteen  centuries,  has  endeavored  to  usurp  a  tyran- 
nical power.  I  have  no  wish  to  throw  my  paving-stone  upon  a 
small  nation,  interesting,  if  not  from  its  virtues  at  least  from  its 
weakness.  But  I  will  truly  state,  as  is  my  custom,  what  I  have 
seen  and  heard  upon  the  territory  of  San  Marino. 

I  had  letl  Rimini  in  a  pouring  rain,  in  a  little  wagon,  built 
something  in  the  style  of  a  dog-cart,  and  hung  as  well  as  it  could  be 
to  break  every  bone  in  my  body.  My  driver  was  the  son  of  the 
inn-keeper,  a  boy  fourteen  years  old  or  more,  and  as  atheist- 
ical as  a  viper.  On  the  route  I  endeavored  to  probe  tlie  depth 
of  his  philosophy,  when  he  dropped  the  following  astounding 
aphorism : 

"  God !  Yes ;  but  I  beUeve  if  there  is  one,  he  is  a  priest  like 
all  the  others." 

Tliis  amiable  child  pointed  out  to  me  the  boundary  between 
the  Pontifical  States  and  the  republican  territory.  It  did  not 
appear  to  me  that  the  sun  was  more  brilliant,  nor  the  earth 
more  bloom incr,  nor  the  rain  less  tasteless.  For  all  that  I  am 
well  pleased  with  the  air  which  is  inspired  in  republics.  The 
country  was  rather  ugly,  and  the  syst«iu  of  cultivation  in  no  wise 
remarkable.  A  small  village  which  I  passed  at  about  half  my 
journey,  seemed  to  me  gloomy  and  dirty.  The  city  and  the 
town  are  situated  upon  a  steep  mountain,  from  which  a  beauti- 


THE  VKTTimiXO. 


245 


ful  prospect  can  be  had  over  a  wide  extent  of  country,  that  is. 
when  IS  is  not  raming  in  torrents.  ^ 

The  town  is  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  the  city  occupies  the 
summ.t;  the  town  is  badly  built,  badly  paved,  and  hjykllt 
Thepnncpal  busmess  cultivated,  and  probably  the  only  one  is 
he  manufacture  of  playing-cards,  which  are  smuggled  abroad  '  I 

tlt«  1  '"fiT  "^  "  ^'^''  '""^  *'"'^'"S  ''  ^°"'J  be  best  to 
take  the  first  poor  person  I  happened  to  meet,  entered   the 

house  of  a  workman  and  offered  to  pay  him  the  value  of  a  d.w's 
labor  If  ho  would  consent  to  show  me  about  for  a  few  hours.  I 
d.d  not  have  to  beg  him  long,  and  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  min- 
utes, I  saw  that  I  might  have  fallen  into  worse  hands  The 
worthy  man  was  good-natured  and  loquacious.     The  first  story 

Z^  iT  '""f  ''^°"'  *'"'  P''y''''''°  °'"  '^^  commune,  who  had 
been  shot  m  the  mam  square  of  the  town. 

^nn?'"  ^f,  ^'"PP^"*"!  two  years  before;  the  assassin  had  been 
sentenced  to  two  years  of  exile.     The  organization  of  the  judi- 
cial system  of  San  Marino  b   entirely  in  an  elementary  condi- 
t^n;  there  are  no  laws,  nor  courts,  but,  when  needed,  a  magis- 
trate, attended  by  four  gensd'armes,  is  summoned  from  Rome  or 
Florence.     This  functionary,  paid  from  the  revenue  of  the  repub- 
lic, judges,  just  as  he  hears,  any  criminal  or  civil  cases  brought 
before  him      The  death  penalty  is  never  indicted,  but  inste°ad 
the  criminal  is  sent  to  tlie  galleys.    Whenever  any  one  is  con- 
demned to  hard  labor,  he  is  sent  to  some  prison  of  the  pope,  or 
of  the  grand  duke  of  Tuscany,  and  the  republic  pays  his  board 
From  the  consideration  of  the  judiciary,  we  pass,  quite  natu^ 
rally,  to  political  affairs.     A  sovereign  council  of  sixty  persons 
direcu  the  affairs  of  the  Sute;  twenty  councilorB  are  chosen 
from  the  nobility,  twenty  from  the  middle  class,  and  the  other 
twenty  from  the  peasantry.     It  is  apparent  from  this  that  the 
republic  of  San  Marino  is  but  in  a  .slight  degree  aristocratic. 

W  ould  you  believe  it  ?  That  there  is  a  nobility  at  San  Mari- 
no ?  In  this  republic,  founded  by  a  mason  who  had  turned  her- 
mit, I  have  proved  the  existence  of  a  privileged  class.  I  had 
tome  curiosity  to  discover  the  source  from  which  emanated  this 
nobihty  of  the  country.  My  guide  assured  me  that  the  nobles 
of  San  Manno  adopt,  from  time  to  time  into  their  ranks,  some 
of  the  middle  class. 

The  executive  power  is  intrusted  to  two  captains.    The  time 


246 


EOMK  OF  TO-DAY. 


of  their  holding  office  is  limited  to  six  months,  and  they  can  not 
be  elected  again  until  after  an  interval  of  three  years.     They 
receive  a  salary  of  twenty-five   Roman  crowns,  a  little  more 
than  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  francs,*  for  their  six  months' 
service.     The  currency  in  vogue  in  the  country  is  of  the  papal 
coinage.     The  armed  force  consists  of  sixty  national  guards.     By 
the  hberality  of  some  foreigner  they  are  enabled  to  have  uniforms, 
but  the  man  who  commands  at  the  present  time  trains  in  his  or- 
dinary clothes.     Thirty  musicians  make  up  the  whole  effective 
force.     In  case  of  necessity,  the  republic  could  muster  five  or  six 
hundred  men  in  arms.     The  treasury  is  never  in  arrears,  because 
there  is  not,  to  speak  truly,  such  a  thing  as  a  revenue.     The  peo- 
ple do  not  pay  direct  taxes.     The  principal  revenue  of  tlie  State 
comes  from  the  salt  and  tobacco  which  the  pope  permits  it  to 
import  free  from  duty.     In  consequence,  it  is  not  only  protected 
by  Saint  Peter,  but  is  actually  dependent  upon  him.     To  this 
revenue  is  to  be  added  a  sum  from  the  duty  on  meat     The  con- 
sumer pays  two  crowns  and  a  half  on  a  carcase  of  beef,  twenty- 
five  cents  for  a  pig,  seven  cents  and  a  half  for  a  sheep.    All  kinds 
of  food  necessary  for  life  are  quite  cheap.    Meat  costs  eight  cents 
a  pound,  a  htre  of  wine  is  sold  for  from  tliree  to  five  cents,  and 
for  a  single  cent  you  can  buy  eight  ounces  of  bread.     The  public 
education  amounts  to  notliing  ;  about  twenty  young  republicans 
go  to  school  to  the  priests,  and  that  is  all.     The  public  works 
are  a  fortress  in  ruins  and  an  ugly  church,  which,  however,  is 
in  a  good  state  of  preservation.     Four  prisoners  are  confined  in 
the  fortress.     I  passed  a  half  hour  with  them.     They  were  con- 
victed of  robbery,  a  crime  as  frequent  here  as  in  the  villages  of 
the  Papal  States.     The  unhappy  wretches  were  impatiently  wait- 
ing to  be  sent  to  the  galleys.     But  time  was  needed  ;  tho  judge 
was  dead,  and  his  successor  had  not  been  named.     One    of  the 
poor  devils  had  a  leg  broken,  and  was  suffering  terribly  upon  his 
miserable  mattress.     In  the  church  is  shown  you  the  tomb  of 
Saint  Marino,  cut  by  liiraself,  and  the  slab  of  marble  consecrated 
by  the  republic  to  Antonio  Onuphno,  patri  patriai,  as  the  inscrip- 
tion reads :  ''  This  Onuphrio  was  ambassador  from  the  republic 
near  the  Emperor  of  the   French."     My  guide  had  tears  in  his 
eyes  when  passing  his  eulogy  upon   this    great  man.      "He 
spoke  to  Napoleon  as  I  talk  to  you ;  he  paid  his  court  to  tho 
empress ;  he  ought  by  all  means  to  be  the  father  of  the  country." 


THE  VETTURINO. 


247 


and  then  got  drunk*  B.if  T  nm  ^  7,^  supper-time, 
cicerone  calu.niiuhf oal/gLrrS L?!  "'!  ''■''I'y 
cunnin.  fHlow  was  very  JocllZ  co  a  eTe':  T'  '  fr 
knew,  as  well  as  every  one  else  in  Italy     In  ig in     f  T,         ^ 

San  Marino     T^nf  m  .  i  ".        r  ^  ''^  ^^'*^  inhabitants  of 

m  some  great  monarchy,  political  areheologist.  wouuTv  olt 
^vlnle  sl.e,ldmg  bitter  tears  :  "  It  remains  to  be  seTn  if  a  7eoZ 

!!!      .•  ?  ""^  ""'^'•csted  in  statistics  of  commerce 

have  noueed  that  the  little  trades  diminish  from  day  Tod  y 
Formerly  our  c,t.es  were  full  of  small  stores,  wholesale  and  ret!u' 

they  d,e,l     Ihe  system  of  partnchips  has  altered  this  state  of 
affairs.     The  small  capitals  have  been  united  to  form  millions  • 
enormous  houses  are  now  leased;  loads  of  goods  are  bouZ' 
and  trade  .3  conducted  on  a  large  scale.     The  whole  has  been 
changed,  by  reason  of  which  the  capitalist  increases,  even  doubles 
h,s  fortune,  the  clerks,  without  risking  a  cent,  pocket  good  sal- 
anes  and  the  public  buys  more  cheaply.     I  fed  by  no  means 
sure  that  some  day  a  similar  change  will  not  take  place  in  poll- 
tics^     ihe  small  States  are  doomed  to  vegetate  like  little  shops. 
If  1  was  kmg  of  Piedmont  or  king  of  Prussia,  I  would  found 
some  vast  esublishment  with  a  capital  of  twenty  or  twenty-five 
milhons  of  men,  and  in  a  short  time  I  should  be  prepared  to  ex- 
tend peace,  security,  affluence,  and  public  education  to  thirty  in 
each  hundred  below  the  privileged  class. 

The  Romagna  ;-but  I  beg  your  pardon,  it  is  a  long  time  since 
wo  left  tho  States  of  tho  Pope. 


I 


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DUE  DATE 


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JUN  2  7  1968 


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